Time In Tableaus
by WaltzMatildah
Summary: Alexcentric drama. Includes all characters,conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for all at SGH. Ch.5Bailey goes mother hen,George and Izzie talk,Alex takes matters into his own hands...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Not mine…mostly.**  
Rating: **Violence and graphic images.

**Spoilers: **A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.

**Summary: **Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.

**Time In Tableaus**

**-**

**Prologue**

The pavement under Alex's feet is harsh, warn and recently wet, his heavy strides echo through shallow puddles and across cracks that spiderweb their way across the city.

The wall behind George's back is cold and unyielding and the leather strap of his suitcase cuts roughly across the soft skin of his palms as it hangs, heavy, in his loose grasp.

The edge of the bed on which Callie is now sitting seems so soft and welcoming and intimately familiar that it is all she can do to stop herself from setting it alight and standing back to watch it burn.

The bathroom floor on which Izzie is lying seems wrong and uneven, as though, should she turn just a little to the left, she will roll off and keep going, never able to stop.

The halogen that lights Meredith and Christina, engrossed in hushed conversation, with a back glow of ethereal blues and whites and golden yellows is cold and sharp and warm and soft all at once.

The dining table where Norman sits to eat his breakfast is a large oval and stained a deep burgundy red that reminds him of good wine, family holidays and spilled spaghetti sauce on small chins.

The couch that Mark and Derek are sitting on is just big enough for them to feel a reassuring semblance of distance but not too big that the distance seems insurmountable, impossible.

The clinic where Miranda stands is quiet and calm and despite it's newness, smells of complicated stories untold, unseen, unheard and lingering, laughing ghosts and she smiles to them.

**1.**

"Callie...?"

The waiver in George's voice is unmistakable and he flinches as the sound is raw and pathetic even to his own ears.

"Callie, please...please just..."

The flinch this time is physical and the sudden movement sends the side of his head thudding dully into the wall at his back as Callie spins to face him, all angles and shadows and shaded misery.

"What George? Please just what?" Water from her recent shower still clings to the ends of her jet black hair and is snaking down the sides of her face in loose tendrils that makes her look wild and untamed. George can't help but think he's never met a person whose hair so matches their personality before.

She is staring back at him expectantly, dark eyes flashing with danger and a hazy madness that George knows from past experience, though not personal, never personal until now, that she is desperately trying to keep in check.

"Why are you even still here?"

George's left knee is trembling violently and he can hear the back of his shoe tapping involuntarily against the very bottom of the wall. He imagines it leaving a muted grey smudge on the perfect silk cream paint and has to choke back an hysterical laugh at the thought of it being the only proof he has ever been in this room once he leaves.

If he leaves.

When he leaves.

He fights an uncharacteristic urge to slam his fist though the plaster, to leave a more permanent mark or at least one that will be harder to hide or cover up or explain away but he thinks he is probably going to do that anyway, hole in the wall or no hole in the wall.

He sighs deeply, feels the air come all the way up from his toes, and decides it's time.

"I don't know...I don't know why I'm still here but...I'm gonna go. I'm gonna go and...I don't know where and I don't know for how long and, dammit Callie...I don't know. I don't know..."

He can feel tears burning hot and acrid on his lashes and swipes at them forcefully, knowing he has no right to them, that he has no right to any of this. Not this room, not the band of gold around his finger that is fast feeling like it's becoming a noose around his neck and definitely not the beautiful, broken woman, _his wife_, standing in front of him.

"...but I know I'm so sorry..."

"Just get out...okay...I have to get ready for work and I can't _do_ that with you standing there _looking_ at me, all pathetic and shaking and..."she steps towards him as she speaks, droplets falling from her chin and running down the front of her shirt, rending short sharp streaks of the pale material see through, water and tears, tears and water, mixing together to tear her open, to expose her, figuratively and literally, and George realises he has never hated himself more than he does right now.

But then he is stepping towards her and she is pushing him back and crushing him against the wall. Her lips are on his and she tastes of loathing and desperation and something else he can't quite figure out but guesses is probably something along the lines of mania, sharp and bitter. Her hair is trapped between them, the water soaking him too now and he's crying and he wants to lift his hand to run it through her hair but he can't because he is still holding tightly to his packed bags and is too terrified to put them down in case he never picks them up again...and he _needs_ to pick them up again. For her, for him, for them both.

"Get out, get out, get out, _getoutgetoutgetout_..." she murmurs against his lips but he's unsure if she means it because the more she says it the tighter she clings to him and the harder she kisses him. Then it's like she suddenly comes into her self and she shoves him backwards and away from her, not stepping back herself but creating distance anyhow, as if claiming her turf and refusing to be beaten. He loves her more in this moment that he thinks he ever has in all their shared moments previously.

The wet patches on the front of her shirt have expanded and are mirrored in a similar display on George's own top and he looks between them, bewildered and light headed from lack of oxygen and something else more primal and all he can think to whisper is...

"We match..."

-

"Where's the gore? Blood and gore. Is it really too much to ask? This is a hospital? I'm a surgeon, I need blood and gore to _breathe_..."

"I think you need blood and gore to breathe because you're Christina Yang actually, not because you're a surgeon. I think you _became_ a surgeon so that you could get your blood and gore legitimately and without the aid of a chainsaw and a one way ticket to maximum security," Meredith retorts, raising an eyebrow and quirking her lip into a snide grin as she settles her weight back against the bench behind her.

"Hey, I'll have you know I'm well versed in the ways of creating blood and gore and not all of them require chainsaws and I even know a few where you could never prove it was me!" Christina slams the chart in her hands back into the cart and exhales loudly before turning sharply to bring her face to face with Meredith.

"Speaking of proving who did what to whom and where and...whatever..." a quick gesticulation of wild hands providing the unspoken _anyway_ "...I hear you have competition on your hands for the attention of the always elusive Doctor McDreamy..."

The hitch in Meredith's fast intake of air is hard to hide and the grin that lights up Christina's face is enough to have her cheeks reddening in caught out embarrassment.

"Stop waggling your eye brows at me, you forget I have photos of you without them and for your information I am _not_ competing for the attention of anyone, _especially_ not Derek and I'll have you..."

Christina's disbelieving snort is harsh and wet sounding and is followed by a series of hacking coughs that Meredith can't help but think are a little bit unlucky and a whole lot karmic retribution.

Still doubled over Christina raises a hand feebly and chokes out a harsh "help, dying over here..."

"Oh, and here I am thinking you were just taking matters into your own hands and creating a little blood and gore yourself...didn't want to interrupt."

"Ha, you're funny and you're also trying...very badly I might add...to change the topic, aren't you even a little bit curious?"

"Curiosity killed the cat as you well know Cristina and as you also...okay...fine, yes. Alright? I want to know, tell me, who is my competition? Can I take them? I'm tougher than I look and I'm not adverse to fighting dirty..."

"What do I get out of this?"

"What?"

"You heard me...I'll tell you, hell I'll even help you prepare by filing your nails into vicious little points but...what's in it for me? I am, after all, in mourning don't forget," Christina snarks, jutting out her bottom lip and tilting her head slightly to the side.

"Fine..I don't want to know anyway..." Meredith spins and takes three purposeful strides in the direction of the stairs before turning on her heels and reeling around to find Christina leaning back against the counter, arms crossed lazily and lips curled into a triumphant grin. "Fine, fine...okay? Blood and gore, the next time I get a surgery that is especially bloody and especially gory it will be all yours...now tell me..."

-

Alex tightens the drawstring of his sweat pants as he shoves open the bathroom door and takes a step towards the mirror. A small squeak and the sudden rustling of harried movement at his feet draws his attention just fast enough to prevent him from planting a running shoe clad foot on his number one, most favourite part of Izzie Stevens' chest and he stumbles into the wall slightly as he is forced to readjust his stride mid-air.

"What the...Izz? Are you...did someone...?

Izzie rolls over so that her face is pressed heavily into the shaggy mat on floor of the shared bathroom, the pile tickling her nose and muffling her disjointed words.

"Don't ask...just...really...no one died...well I might...later...but...trust me Alex, you so don't wanna know..."

"Okay..." Alex draws the word out slowly and sarcastically, effectively hiding his confused concern with indifference and a cool haze of _whatever _as he reaches over her to grab his watch from the side of the basin, forgotten earlier in the morning when his teeth brushing ritual had been interrupted by a phone call from a wrong number.

"Well, I'm running to work..."

"Jogging..."

"What?"

"You're jogging...people jog to work, they don't run..."

"Excuse me, look up..." he continues when she doesn't respond because he didn't really expect her to anyway... "fine, don't look up but seriously...do I _look_ like a jogger to you? Trust me I run...I..." he lacks further comeback for a change, his mind still half occupied with serially flicking through his memories of the last few days for a clue as to why Izzie would be lying on the bathroom floor, not quite catatonic but still not _healthy_... "run," he finishes weakly, at a loss.

"Yeah well, see you there..." she answers, followed by something lower, softer, sadder that is lost entirely in the shag pile at her lips and he can't help but wonder if that was her intention all along.

The weather has been unseasonably warm for most of the week but the dawn seems to have brought with it a cold front that is threatening snow and chilling winds and roiling black clouds that are keeping the sunlight at bay with a fierce determination. As Alex rounds a tight corner and comes out from behind the relative protection of the grey bricked building of an inner city supermarket on his left the wind bites through his t-shirt sharply and he falters for a step before regaining his rhythm and forcing himself to continue. The winds bend his head lower as his eyes water icy tears that he uses his sleeve to wipe away and his chin instinctively seeks out the relative warmth of his chest as he says a small thank you to whatever it was that sparked his last minute decision to grab his beanie before he set out.

The frigid air is burning his lungs and while every medical text book he has ever read recommended _against_ running in temperatures such as these he can't help but grin to himself and nod a self-satisfied affirmation that he always has been a rebel.

Save for the sound of his own laboured breaths and the buffeting wind that is almost but not quite head on there is relative silence. His thoughts turn to Izzie and a time when the sight of a pink dress would make him nostalgic and sad and empty when it really shouldn't but always, without fail, did. He has an urge to turn and head home again but chastises himself internally and almost manages to convince himself that it would be an exercise in futility anyway as she would have left for work by now, hopefully.

He makes a deal that if he can reach the hospital ten minutes earlier than he had originally planned he will let himself look for her and even though he thought he was already going as fast as his out of practice legs will take him he can feel the slight up-shift in speed as his tempo increases and his mind blanks and his lungs scream just that little bit more. He welcomes the pain because, unlike all those years ago when it was used as a weapon against him, he is now in control of it and he revels in the knowledge that he can turn it on and off at will. He, somewhat sadistically, likes to see how much he can take before he backs off but he has also come to know that some things are terribly motivating and worth all the pain in the world.

-

Callie's right hand trembles only briefly as she uses it to push open the doors to the emergency department and she closes her eyes for a fleeting second before stepping through to face the reality her life has sunk in to. She can see Meredith and Christina to one side, locked in an animated conversation that she is especially glad she can not hear. Izzie Stevens doesn't appear to have arrived yet but she can see George hovering behind and slightly to the left of Meredith and she unconsciously relaxes by degrees that they aren't anywhere near each other.

In the hours since George's speech, since his confirmation of, essentially, what she already had guessed, what she already _knew _Callie has cried and vomited and lusted and cried some more and now she simply feels hollowed out and achingly empty. The weight of her wedding ring suddenly seems unnaturally immense and her left arm feels like it may drag along the floor behind her if she doesn't remove it right away. She uses her last moments of anonymity as the doors swing closed behind her to quickly pull it off and slide it into the pocket of her lab coat, disguising the motion by pulling out a notebook that she has no immediate use for.

"Okay...residents..." she stops again, interrupted loudly, physically, by the door behind her swinging open and a flash of blue and blonde almost sideswiping her on its way past.

"Dr. Torres...I'm..."

"Stevens...you have interns here, unsupervised interns, they are your responsibility and you are my responsibility, we have rosters for a reason people...and..." Callie takes a deep, centering breath before allowing herself to continue, Izzie is staring back at her with wide unblinking blue eyes and George's mouth hangs open dumbly, before closing with a sharp snap... "speaking of unsupervised interns, where is Dr. Karev?"

A murmur ripples through the gathered throng of nurses, interns and residents and the general consensus seems to be that no one has seen him yet. Norman steps forward and offers to page him but Callie raises a hand in his direction to indicate that she will do it herself, he nods and steps back again, somewhat self consciously and Callie hates that she can't seem to bring herself to care.

"For now you split up, you two with Dr. Grey, you with Dr. Yang and you with Dr. Stevens..." she announces, desperate to assert her authority and keep some semblance of control of her staff, even if she can't keep control of herself.

She moves away and notices Meredith and Christina slide back into step with each other as they walk in the opposite direction, a gaggle of chattering interns, increased by three, trailing behind them, and Callie can't help but wonder if they know, if everyone knows, if everyone _knew_. Her eyes sting and she turns to the wall and blinks furiously, refusing to let herself disintegrate in front of her peers and is grateful for the sudden arrival of a screaming ambulance on the other side of the ER doors that brings with it merciful distraction.

-

Alex hurdles a particularly large puddle that the wind and what little sun they have had this morning hasn't been able to evaporate. Doing so lands him in a smaller one that soaks his shoe and works its way steadily into his sock but he knows it could have been much worse and then suddenly it is.

The wind drowns out the sound initially, the deep mechanic rumble of a vehicle being revved. Coupled with the fact that Alex is still somewhat distracted by thoughts of Izzie and bathroom floors and pink dresses means that it isn't until the car is almost on top of him that Alex becomes aware of the blue and grey SUV, and by then it's too late.

A last minute evasive maneuver means he is saved from going through the SUV's windscreen but _something_ must have happened because the next thing he remembers is freezing water soaking through the side of his t-shirt and a loud ringing deep inside his head that is compounded and multiplied and then doubled once again as the vehicle smashes its way through the plate glass of a quaint diner that is now sideways in his vision from his vantage point on the cold ground.

He hears screaming as he pushes up to sitting, some of it is his own though most of it comes from those around him. He feels numb and lost, disconnected and more than a little confused but instinct tells him to get to his feet and the world only tilts viciously to the right once when he does so he thinks he'll probably live. The SUV is almost entirely inside the front section of the diner but the reverberating in Alex's head means he can't tell if the engine is still running.

The driver is climbing out, he has blood on his forehead and he is fighting an exploded air bag that seems intent to keep him seated. Alex staggers towards him a few metres but is stopped by a cold stare and a shake of a head that sends free flowing blood into a new course down the stranger's cheeks and off the tip of his chin.

He is approached by someone, female, that much Alex can tell and they try to force him back to sitting. Back to the puddles and the cigarette butts and the gutter where he always swore to himself that he would never end up so he pushes her away and starts towards the demolished building, stepping over jagged shards of glass and daisy blue serviettes and spilled sugar cups.

There is an elderly couple still seated at one table, a frozen tableau of normalcy amid carnage and horror. It's not until Alex follows their unblinking line of vision to the floor at their feet that he sees the high chair from another table lying on its side and mostly under the front section of the car. He can see blonde hair, it is ringlet curly and so still that Alex's insides lurch and he forces his gag reflex to calm down as he reaches violently trembling fingers towards it.

The sound that comes out of him when his hand knocks against the smooth, cool plastic of a doll's head is somewhat uncontrolled and completely hysterical and he can't even begin to turn back to the old couple to let them know, to tell that that it's okay. That it's _just a freakin' doll_.

-

Rounds are relatively quick this morning and Izzie soon finds herself deliberately on the look out for George. Callie had seemed ultra tense this morning, though she has been that way since becoming Chief Resident so Izzie isn't allowing herself to use it as definitive proof that George has finally confessed.

"Dr. Stevens...should I perhaps try and find Dr. Karev?"

Intern Norman enters her field of vision and Izzie swats at him unconsciously like he's an irritant that she needs to dismiss before stopping and staring back at him, hard.

"Dr. Stevens?"

"Yes, Dr. Karev. Good idea, he should definitely be here by now, he left...well, before me anyway..."

"Before you? So...you...and Dr. Karev...live...together?"

Norman's stammering and hesitation is reminding her of George in all kinds of unmentionable ways and she can't think of a way to snap him out of it other than to start talking herself.

"No we don't...well, we do but not...Dr. Karev doesn't _live_ with other people, he exists in the same space as them but...anyway...never mind, the point is he should definitely be here by now, he jogged..." she is walking away from Norman and he is hurrying to keep up, "no...ran, sorry, he _ran _to the hospital this morning and it doesn't usually take him this long so...yes, maybe try paging him again."

Izzie walks off, leaving him standing in the hallway, somewhat confused and more than a little bemused, "...and try his cell phone..."

"Certainly Dr. Stevens..." answers Norman quietly to her retreating back.

-

"Still no gore...and only minimal blood...don't forget you owe me Grey..." Christina slides onto a stool in front of where Meredith is examining a chart, still bemoaning the lack of suitable action.

"I owe you nothing, Derek and Mark, honestly Christina, Derek and _Mark_? You expect me to hand over surgeries for _that_?"

"Well, the rumour is that McSteamy admitted he came back here to...and I quote..._get you back_...you meaning McDreamy obviously, not you meaning, well...you..."

"Obviously..." Meredith agrees snidely.

"But that's beside the point. It's Friday, where is all my Friday blood and gore?"

Meredith slides a chart over in front of Christina.

"Does that look like a 7 or a 9 to you?"

"7..no 9, definitely 9..." tilting her head to the side to srcutinise the scrawl more accurately she eventually concedes.

"Maybe a 7...geez, who's writing is that?"

"I have no idea, probably one of Alex's...hey..." she looks up suddenly, seeking Christina's eye contact, "...do you know if he's here yet...maybe I can load them off again..."

"Nope, I've still got mine so...wonder where the hell he is..."

-

"Help me, please..."

Alex can see her mouth moving but the sound is in some kind of delay and she has to repeat herself before he can drag his body back to standing and pick his way towards her. She is almost under a table and Alex can't for the life of him figure out how she got there but because colours are swirling around him and his own body feels detached and loose he thinks it probably doesn't matter right now _how_ she got there, only what he can do about getting her out.

"Hi there, my names Alex and I'm a doctor...can you tell your name?"

The words are automatic and he doesn't quite know where they come from but he's grateful for them all the same.

"Lucy, I'm Lucy Reeves but..." she looks down and lifts a hand to rest on her swollen belly before looking back at him with unmasked terror dripping from the corners of her dark brown eyes and whispering "my baby, it's...please help me..."

"How far along are you? Do you know your due date?"

She nods and he quickly tells her not to move any more so she stills and follows his ministrations with her eyes only.

"Next week, he's due next week..." she pauses briefly, eyes scrunched and questioning, '...are you...you have..."

"I'm fine, it's okay," Alex dismisses her with a wide, false grin, "all we have to worry about is making sure this little guy stays in for one more week huh...so how exactly did you get to be down here?"

"I don't really... I can't..." her breathing hitches and Alex begs for her to calm down, soothing and all charm and he watches her visibly relax in front of him.

"It's okay...doesn't really matter now does it...does anything hurt? You didn't hit your head or anything?"

Lucy shakes her head, a desperate, decisive movement that fools Alex into thinking she is simply answering his question, if not a little over zealously. It's not until her lips part to form a startled oval and her breath hisses out in a terrified moan of _no_ and _please no_ that Alex begins to think maybe more is going on here than he first deduced.

She scrabbles backwards, trying to sit up but simultaneously trying to slide further under the table and out of his reach. It's not until the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind his head echoes in his ears that Alex realises she isn't even looking at him any more, hasn't been since the panicked verbalisations and disjointed movements started.

He swallows thickly, his throat feels sticky and tight with fear and confusion as someone else, to his left and closer to the door, screams a high pitched squeal of terror that tells him once and for all that _this is real._

He turns slowly, expecting to eyeball the barrel of something metallic and deadly and only-at-the-movies like but is shocked to discover the gun isn't pointed at him at all.

Not even close.

"What's...?"

In his confusion he can't seem to articulate anything further.

"No, Jason...please, can't we just...oh _God_, what have you done?"

He looks towards Lucy, her hands protectively bracing her pregnant belly and tears streaking tracks of mascara down her ash white cheeks and she looks frantically from side to side and to him and back to Jason, whoever Jason is.

"Lucy...? Do you..."

"Shuttup."

The words are said so fast and so tight that at first Alex thinks he has imagined them.

"Lucy...?"

"I said...shut... up."

Alex is left with no misunderstanding this time and as a blur of knee height denim passes him by in his squatting position he can't even bring himself to react and the scene plays out in sick slow motion in front of him.

"I'm so sorry Luce...but I can't let you do this..."

He recognises the guy with the gun now, it's the driver from the SUV, the blood from the gash on his forehead has been crudely wiped away with a sleeve smearing it across his temple and into his hair. The cut is still oozing slowly and webbing a pattern that covers his nose and one cheek in slick, shiny red.

"No no no no nononono..._please_, talk to me, please..."

"I'm sorry Luce, but what is there really left to talk about? "

The guy, Jason…his voice cracks as he says her name. Alex looks from the shattered SUV to the shattered diner window to the shattered woman in front of him, hands still bracing her stomach as though she can protect it from what is to come and he suddenly feels all the disjointed pieces fall together.

"Hey…maybe we just need to…" Alex starts but doesn't know how to finish and his legs are starting to feel sluggish and more than a little numb. He doubts he can get between the gun and the woman without getting a bullet between his own eyes and the look he gets from the shooter…Jason, etches itself into his memory, cold, detached eyes that cry and blink rapidly as she whispers his name.

"Jason…_please_?"

Despite her plaintive plea and despite the fact that he is now half expecting it, the gunshot is still louder than anything Alex has ever heard before and still shocks him right from his flayed outer edges to the inner most parts of his soul.

She screams, loudly, louder than the gun shot, a sound that continues on, unheeded in Alex's head long after a second shot puts a stop to any and all noise Lucy is capable of making.

"_I'm so sorry, Luce."_

He stops breathing, of that he is fairly certain and it's not until the third shot and the sudden drop of a heavy male body landing mostly on top of him that he starts again, shoving the weight off him frantically and staring in mute fascination at the woman in front of him. A perfect round hole in the centre of her forehead and the spray of blood and something else that Alex knows instinctively but refuses to think about on the back of the booth behind her the only indication that something is wrong with this picture. She slumps to the side slightly and it is only now, as her right hand falls to lay limply in a mirror-like puddle of coffee and blood and death now pooling at her side, that he can finally see the where the first shot had been aimed.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Word Count: **4900

**Disclaimer: **Not mine…mostly.**  
Rating: **Violence and graphic images.

**Spoilers: **A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.

**Summary: **Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.

**Chapter Summary: **Alex turns up…eventually.

Thanks to IceWhisper for beta-ing, all mistakes that you find are my own!

**Time in Tableaus - Chapter Two**

-

The clinic is surprisingly quiet for a Friday morning but Miranda can't quite shake the uneasy feeling that it's merely lulling her into a false sense of security. Despite the fact that she is waiting for the inevitable arrival of interns, relegated to her service for the day as unspoken punishment for being exactly that...interns, she is surprised when the doors are slowly pushed open and Norman enters, somewhat sheepishly, as though loathe to disturb her.

"Dr. Shale, what can I do for you?" She feels bad for him even though she knows he's not looking for sympathy and can't help but wonder if he will ever be accepted as an equal to the other interns. It seems the harder he tries to fit in, the more glaringly obvious the differences become.

"Actually Dr. Bailey, I'm wondering if you've perhaps seen Dr. Karev at all. I'm his intern as you well know and it seems he's yet to arrive this morning." He is overly polite and Miranda smiles inwardly as he ducks his head slightly so that he doesn't tower over her quite so much.

"No, he's certainly not been in here, but then again that whole group tends to steer pretty much clear of here most of the time, not much surgical action walks through those doors," she indicates to the entrance with soft nod of her head, "you've paged him I take it?"

"Yes, twice and tried his cell phone. I believe Dr. Torres has also tried to page him, she split us up between the other residents and I'm with Dr. Stevens, who incidentally confirmed that he did indeed leave the house before her this morning, though he apparently ran to work. I can't help but wonder if perhaps something untoward has happened en route."

"As flighty as that bunch are it is odd that he wouldn't turn up at all, I'll chase down Dr. Torres and see if she's heard anything from him, other than that there isn't really a great deal we can do until he gets here."

Norman nods in agreement and starts to turn back towards where he entered.

"Dr. Shale, how's it all going anyway? Your internship? Everything?"

He stops just short of the doors and appears to pause before turning back to face her. "You know, when I started I would tell myself that the first year of medical school was going to be the hardest but then, once everyone had become accustomed the novelty that I seemed to present, it would all get better, and then second year started, and third and now this and..."

"Let me guess, it's not getting any easier?"

Norman laughs softly and it sounds wise like piano notes and history books and Miranda can't help but wonder at the stories he would have to tell.

"No, not easier. But, don't get me wrong, I didn't come into this thinking that I was going to be just like the others and to be honest with you I don't _want_ to be just like them either. I think to want that would be an insult to my past profession and to the life I have lived up to this point; to my children, who incidentally are all older than Alex, I overheard him say yelling at me was like yelling at his grandfather and he's right, I _could_ be his grandfather, or his father at the very least."

Miranda nods a goodbye as he pushes back through the doors and contemplates for a moment what kind of person Alex would have become had someone like Norman been his father.

-

Back at the demolished diner Alex's breaths are coming short, sharp and fast and the burning in his lungs from earlier in the morning is nothing compared to the bone chilling cold that is wrapping itself around him now. His hands are pressed tightly over the gunshot wound in Lucy's abdomen. Despite the fact that the hole is leaking more than just blood and despite the fact that there is a matching wound in the centre of her forehead he still clings to the hope that the life growing inside her is desperately holding on. If he can just keep her going until help arrives then...maybe...

There is a wailing in the distance that Alex thinks is probably the paramedics. He wonders for a moment where his cell phone is because rounds started ten minutes ago and his interns will be waiting for him and Addison needs to be warned that he's coming in with a seriously injured pregnant woman. Then hands are pulling him off her and he remembers that Addison isn't in Seattle any more and he knows he's not good enough to do this by himself so he lets them take over with little fuss. Standing up proves to be a much more painful task than sitting down had been only minutes ago and despite intentions to the contrary he obviously verbalises his sudden discomfort rather vigorously as he is suddenly surrounded by gloved hands and concerned faces that he fights to push away.

"No, no, I'm fine...you need to...she's only got a week to go so...you need to get..."

He's waving his hands around in the air in front of him hoping that his frantic gesticulations will explain what he wants the paramedics to do more clearly than his incoherent ramblings are currently achieving. He obviously does something right though as they turn from him and close in on the woman who only moments earlier was begging Alex to help her.

-

"Eight o' clock and still no action...what's _with_ Seattle today?" Christina stretches out her upper body across the nurses station desk and rests her chin on one hand. She has a pen curled in her fingers and is repeatedly clicking it open and shut distractedly.

"Christina, seriously...you need to stop with the incessant whining because really, isn't that my job? Or Izzie's job? What's got into you? You don't whine...ever."

Meredith contemplates her question for a minute before choosing to answer it herself.

"You know what, I don't think you're craving surgeries, I think you're having sex withdrawal."

Meredith proclaims her diagnosis with such glee that Christina immediately stands with righteous indignation.

"I am not with_drawing_ from _sex_..."

"Okay, so maybe not withdrawing but you definitely need to get laid."

Christina's mouth is agape at the words and the nurse who has been standing at the station with them suddenly finds something much more interesting to do somewhere else and flees.

"And sooner rather than later...for all our sakes."

Meredith's pager sounds, bringing an end to the conversation but as she turns to leave she calls back over her shoulder to a re-slumping Christina, "Maybe I'll hire you someone, you know...to scratch the itch?"

As Meredith disappears around the corner she hears Christina yell behind her, "Excuse me, I'm Christina Yang and I do NOT _pay_ for sex."

Lexie is passing Meredith on her way to meet Christina as the words float down the hallway and she raises her eyes to Meredith inquisitorially but Meredith simply shrugs her shoulders and rolls her eyes back in a wordless answer and continues walking.

-

Callie sighs and presses open the doors to the ER for the second time that morning and is almost flattened by a body pushing through from the other direction.

"Callie, ah...Dr. Torres, I was just coming to find you..."

Callie raises her eyebrows in a silent _what the hell do you want now _and fights the urge to sink to the floor and bury her head between her knees. She can't remember ever feeling this _heavy_ before and it's all she can do to look Miranda in the eye.

"Have you heard from Dr. Karev yet? There still appears to be no sign of him."

Callie struggles to hide the _oh shit_ look from her face, feels it appear seconds before she can school her features back into the blank canvas she has been valiantly sporting all morning.

"I'll take that as a no then?"

Caught out, Callie decides she can't even be bothered making up a plausible excuse for her error.

"Shit, I completely forgot, I got called out and..."

Miranda raises a hand and Callie bites down hard on the urge to slap it away.

"It's fine, Dr. Shale has paged him numerous times to no avail so..." Despite her words there is accusing in her tone that Miranda can't quite smooth out, doesn't want to smooth out.

"...I'll keep trying him myself."

As Miranda walks away Callie leans back against the wall heavily, drawing strength from the feel of something solid at her back, of _something_ at her back. Even if it is just a wall. She taps her head softly a few times against the plasterboard in a silent admonishment of her lapse in concentration before reaching for her suddenly beeping pager.

-

The Chief fills Callie in on the little detail he has been able to glean from the police at the scene. A possible ram-raid and a shooting at a small diner filled with morning breakfast goers, and Callie gathers her team in the ER to brief them on what to expect.

"Our first incoming is approximately five minutes away, I want everyone ready with their interns out of the way initially as we don't have full details of what to expect."

There is an authority and confidence in her voice that are only in small part faked and for that she is somewhat pleased with herself. This is her job and her job she can do. The other stuff, the marriage and the affair and the George and the Izzie, it is background noise that she needs to push aside for the moment.

Christina, who's own pager sounded shortly after Meredith's departure, nudges Meredith while indicating for her interns to stand back with a quick raise of her chin in their direction.

"Incoming blood and gore. Today is finally looking up. And MVAs and GSWs in one, seriously, could I ask for more?!"

Meredith rolls her eyes, "Only you could be pleased that people are crashing their cars and getting shot. Really, I think you need to speak to someone about this."

"Ha, says _you_," comes Christina's unimaginative retort, her mind too filled with surgical possibilities to be bothered with anything more biting.

"And don't forget Grey, you owe me."

"I owe you nothing! Hey, I can always lend you my knitting needles..."

-

Alex steps back as paramedics swarm past him. He hears one of them yell about finding a pulse and he swivels as much as he can to see if his prayers to a God he doesn't even believe in anyway have been answered. But Lucy is lying all alone, the small round hole in her forehead long since stopped oozing blood and brain matter indicating a pulse is the last thing they will find for her.

Instead medical personnel are surrounding the collapsed body of Lucy's killer. He is still where Alex unceremoniously dumped him in his frantic attempts to get out from under his heavy bulk and the thought that Jason might still be alive, even with most of the side of his face blown away, sends waves of roiling nausea from Alex's stomach to the back of his throat.

He forces himself away, refusing to watch as they place life saving equipment over his nose and mouth and start hooking up saline bags and attaching electrodes. He sees a young girl lying on her back near the windows where a bone-chilling breeze is blowing through the open space where plate glass and '_now open_' signs used to be. He can see her yellow employees t-shirt, stained through with red that could be her blood, could be someone else's. There is so much of it, it's difficult tell which pool or which splatter belongs to which injured patron. Alex thinks some of it might even be his but he is too tired and too cold to care.

"Hey there..."

He pulls one of her hands out from under a tipped stool, slides the stool away with the tip of his toe and concentrates on feeling for her pulse. He can see now that most of the blood is hers. He guesses she was standing right beside the window when the car came through and was showered with glass shards that have torn through her young skin with no remorse.

A paramedic kneels down beside him and brushes some glass off her forehead with his gloved fingers and her eyes flutter open and catch Alex's straight on.

"Hey there..." he repeats, "my name's Alex and..."

He stops short because the sentence reminds him too much of his first to Lucy and he thinks that if this girl was to meet the same fate then Alex might actually find Jason's gun and shoot _himself_ in the head.

"What's your name?"

The paramedic continues for him and the girls eyes flick slowly from Alex to him as she stammers out a terrified _Kelsey_.

"My name's Kelsey."

"Well, hey there Kelsey, I just need to go get some more stuff from outside okay..." he turns to look at Alex, noticing for the first time the condition the young jogger is in.

"Hey, you okay there buddy? You get hit too?"

Alex shakes his head but doesn't answer, keeps his eyes locked on Kelsey, as though she might disappear if he looks away.

"Okay, well, I'll be back in a sec, can you sit with her till then? Keep her talking okay?"

Alex nods this time and breathes out a _yeah_ that has the paramedic standing and walking back towards outside.

Kelsey's eyes squint in sudden recognition and she tries to push herself into a sitting position but Alex's hands on her shoulders keep her down.

"Hey keep still for a bit longer okay, just till we've had time to check you over..."

"But…you, I _saw_ you...are you _sure_ you're..."

"I'm fine okay, nothing to worry about, let's just concentrate on getting you out of here..."

-

The first patient through the door is classified as a gun-shot wound to the head and Christina can't be more pleased. Derek hurries over and a crowd gathers as paramedics gush in hushed whispers that _he's the shooter, he's the one..._

The left side of his face, or what remains of it, is covered in thick gauze that is already soaked bright red with blood. Derek lifts it from one corner and takes in the mangled mess underneath before turning back to the ambulance staff.

"So he shot his pregnant ex before shooting himself..." they nod in confirmation and Derek turns back to the patient, "and now I get to be the one to try and save your ass...Dr. Grey?"

He looks up to find her in the gathered throng, saying her name as a request for her to assist him on the case.

"Oh, no, no, no...Grey, you promised!"

Meredith shrugs her shoulders quickly at Christina's stunned expression.

"Sorry, this one's all mine."

"But...you..."

"Knitting, Christina, trust me, it really does help."

-

The paramedic has returned with an extra kit and begins pulling out gauze to wrap Kelsey's myriad of cuts and slashes. Alex reaches forward for a pair of gloves he can see poked into the side of the kit but is halted with a sharp _hey_.

"Oh, sorry, guess I should introduce myself, Alex Karev, I'm a surgical resident over at Seattle Grace...I'd shake your hand but..." he grins slyly and raises his arms, palms forward, covered with dried blood and dirt from his meeting with the pavement outside.

The paramedic appraises him briefly before nodding slowly, a grin spreading out across his leathered features.

"Hey, I thought you looked familiar...you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good, I'll give you a hand here and ride back with you if that's okay?"

"Yeah, fine with me, what about you Kels? You think you can share your ride with him?"

Kelsey nods and smiles tightly, the movement pulling at a deep gash through the corner of her upper lip.

"So, have you ever been in an ambulance before?"

Kelsey nods that she has before answering verbally, "I broke my ankle ice-skating once, a few years ago."

There is blood on her teeth and bubbling, red saliva flecks her chin and cheeks and Alex forces himself not to look away, to take a deep breath and to concentrate on checking her over. She is shivering with cold, as cold as he is perhaps, and he pulls a silver emergency blanket out of the kit and tucks it around her legs, uses the movement as a deliberate distraction.

"Okay...then you know all about it."

They patch her up the best they can, Alex having donned two pairs of surgical gloves as extra precaution and protection and they slowly secure a neck brace on her before loading her carefully onto a stretcher. By the time they have her into the back of the ambulance Alex is barely able to conceal his own agony and he attempts to take a quick inventory of where he hurts. His left wrist is slowly becoming completely useless and his knee is throbbing in time with his heart beat, his legs feel strangely disconnected from the rest of his body but he puts that down to the fact that he doubts he's ever been this cold before.

The paramedic, Charlie, must see the shivers he's trying to hide because as they pull away from the destroyed diner he slides another foil blanket out from a compartment at his feet, unwraps it and hands it to Alex with a grin.

"You can stop pretending now you know..."

Alex tries to grin back at him but the shivers are causing his back muscles to cramp and his teeth to chatter so he thinks it's time to end the false bravado.

-

Mark Sloan passes Derek in the hall on his way to the ER and pauses quickly to confirm whether the rumours are true.

"I hear you've got the shooter?"

Derek nods, a brief movement that conveys everything else Mark could ever need to ask, so he doesn't and instead continues on his way.

His arrival in the ER coincides with the arrival of the latest ambulance and Mark's attention is quickly grabbed as Alex steps through the doors trailing a silver emergency blanket tucked under one elbow and holding a saline drip at head height with his other hand.

"Dr. Sloan, we could use you over here...seventeen year old Kelsey Churchill, covered in glass as the SUV came through the diner window beside her. She's one of the employees...got cut up pretty bad...we've patched her best we could out there but...she could sure use some of your magic."

Alex grins at him trying to cover up the fact that he knows he must look shocking, shivering and pathetic and wanting nothing more than to float to the floor of the ER and have someone else pick him up. Luckily, Dr. Sloan doesn't appear to notice, he is already lifting the gauze from various parts of Kelsey's face to inspect the damage and he calls for Izzie to take over from Alex.

"Karev, go get cleaned up, warmed up, whatever, you look like shit...then get back here..."

Alex nods and refuses to look in Izzie's direction, he knows for a fact that she will be harder to fool.

"Alex?" she calls, "...are you...?"

"I'm fine, none of it's mine...I don't think...just cold, I'll be back in a minute..."

-

Izzie is finding it increasingly difficult to keep her hands from shaking and pulling slivers of thick transparent glass out of a young girls skin is not a good time for your hands to be shaking. Her newly acquired shadow for the day is leaning over her shoulder watching, compounding the problem ten fold and Mark is opposite her looking at x-rays on a light board and waiting for her to finish so that he can come in at the end and sew her up all perfect and claim the credit. As usual.

"Dr. Sloan, I hear Karev came in with your patient, don't suppose you know where he is now."

Mark peels his eyes away from the x-rays and lowers them towards Miranda.

"I sent him to get cleaned up and changed, he was filthy and freezing cold, told him to go shower and then come back and help."

"So...he was okay then? He's been AWOL all morning, which...is understandable now I guess but I just wondered exactly how caught up in it all he had been..."

"Said he was fine when I asked, just cold. Had blood all over him but, he said none of it was his..."

"And I 'spose you took his word for that?"

"Well, what was I supposed to do? He's..."

"Forget it, I'll go find him and check for myself, seems everyone's keen to pass him off today..."

Miranda leaves with as little sound as she entered, her words leaving Mark with an unsettling feeling that he's just been told off and he had no idea why, the welfare of interns, junior residents, whatever...not his responsibility.

"Excuse me..."

The voice behind him is muffled through an oxygen mask and Mark reaches over to replace it with a less restrictive nasal canula instead.

"What's up?"

"That doctor, she's looking for Alex right?"

"Yeah, she is...why's that..."

"I heard you say he was okay, when he came... you know? That he told you he was okay..."

"Yeah, that's right..."

"Well, I don't think...I mean, I was there right?"

Mark nods cautiously, meets Izzie's eyes for a second and notes that she has halted her actions, her hands frozen in place over the girls left arm.

"Well, I'm pretty sure, I mean, no... I'm definitely sure, because I was right by the window when it happened you know? On my way to the back with some coffees...he was jogging, I remember that because I was watching him when it happened...noticed 'cause he's pretty cute, yeah?"

"When what happened?" Izzie ignores the last comment and fights the urge to grab hold of the girl's hand and squeeze it in an attempt to get the words out faster.

"When the SUV hit him..."

"When what?" It's Mark's turn to want to squeeze the girl for information and Norman's fingers fly to his lips with a shocked _oh dear_.

"The SUV, the one that went through the window...it hit him first, I'm sure it was him. He moved kinda last second but it still got him hard, he went over the hood I think though I'm not sure 'bout the rest 'cause by that stage I was lying face up under an inch of broken glass but..."

"Norman, go after Dr. Bailey. Make sure she finds him and gets him thoroughly checked out..."

"Yes, Doctor," he calls, although he is already retreating from the room, slightly sideways and backwards in his attempt for haste.

Mark looks towards Izzie again, her hands having now completely abandoned their work and sitting, shaking on the bed in front of her.

"Shit."

-

"Derek, have you seen Karev yet?"

Callie is slowly starting to feel less and less worried and upset at herself and more and more angry and annoyed at Alex's repeated ignoring of her pages. The level of disrespect she has been shown since taking her new role has astounded her and she wonders if Alex has heard the news and has taken a _Team Izzie_ t-shirt.

"I heard he came in with one of the vics but I haven't seen him."

"Nice of him to let me know..." she mutters but is cut off by Meredith coming to stand next to Derek.

"You ready to go? They're just transporting him to the OR now..." she asks Derek before turning to Callie to throw some defense behind Alex in his absence. "Sounds like it was a bit of a mess out there and he was pretty much in the middle of it all, I'm sure he'll come find you when he's cleaned up."

She offers up a small smile of understanding that Callie mis-reads as condescending and sarcastic.

"Is he walking, Grey?"

"Uh...yeah..."

"Is he talking?"

"Ummm, apparently..."

"Then he has no excuse," she finishes, before turning and flouncing away as Meredith and Derek share a look of raised eyebrows and silent _what the hell was that about_'s?

-

Miranda rounds the corner and finds Alex leaned up against a wall. At first glance he looks barely awake but his eyes blink slowly and he turns his head slightly to face her.

"There you are, we've been looking for you. What, you not answering your pager today?" His arms are entwined together across his chest and he continues the slow blink. At first Miranda thinks he isn't going to offer any explanation for where he's been or why but then...

"Mark told me to get changed, there was...I was...but...I don't think it was..."

"Alex?"

He turns his head towards her again, he's as white as Miranda's ever seen a conscious person be before and there's a gash under his right eyebrow that is slowly seeping dark red blood. He's still doing that slow blink and Miranda thinks it's the most disconcerting thing she has ever had to witness.

"Are you okay?"

Slow blink, it feels like his lashes stick together every time they touch and there is immense effort required, almost more than he can manage, to pull them apart again.

"There was so much...and the screaming, God. Why do chicks have to scream so loud, hey?"

He chuckles softly and Miranda smiles back reflexively before a grimace of pain crosses his features and he seems to curl into himself slightly against the wall.

"No, I mean are _you_ okay? Are you hurt at all?"

He straightens again at her words, trying to prove a point, to himself as well as to her. The muscles in his back scream their protest but he swallows harshly, thickly, around the rock that has suddenly appeared in his throat.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I..."

"Alex..."

She says his name like a warning, like a_ don't lie to me_, like an _I'm standing right here and can see it written all over your face_.

"Oh..." he gets it. Never could hide anything from her, not when she was his boss and especially not now. He goes for the lesser of two evils.

"My wrist hurts...and my knee, I think...but I can't really remember and..."

"What exactly happened?"

"What?" Shit. He's not ready for this yet. He can feel his heart hammering deep in his chest and his mind wildly tries for likely scenarios he can spin that will buy him some time but thinking is becoming more and more difficult and he's still freakin' cold. Like maybe he's still lying in the puddle at the side of the road.

Miranda's heard bits and pieces over the course of the morning and his panicked _what_ tells her she should probably, against her gut instinct telling her there is something more going on, leave it at that for a while longer.

"Let's get you down to the ER then and have a look at that wrist, hey?"

-

Everyone seems to arrive in the ER at once.

Miranda has finally managed to get an ominously silent and increasingly breathy Alex safely there from where she had originally found him near the residents lounge. Callie has stormed in that direction after her run in with Meredith and Derek while Norman arrives just in time to see her catch sight of Alex and Dr. Bailey in front of her.

He smiles briefly to himself with relief that Alex is upright and apparently okay but before he can speak is shocked into silence by a loud _Karev_.

His initial impressions of Alex's health fall over completely as he watches him turn, slowly and painstakingly back towards Dr. Torres. He looks like death and not the warmed up variety either as Dr. Bailey raises a hand to his shoulder and says something to him that Norman is still too far away to catch.

"Dr. Torres, I'm just going to..."

"All due respect Dr. Bailey, but I'm talking to my resident..." Callie's voice is unnecessarily loud and an octave or two higher than normal but she can't seem to bring it back under control.

"Karev, where the hell have you been? And more importantly, why the hell have you ignored all of the pages I know you have been sent this morning? Half the damn hospital has been running around looking for you. Your interns have been largely unsupervised and..."

Miranda grunts indignantly and prepares to say something before instead choosing to close her hand around Alex's upper arm and pull him back towards the cubicle that had been their initial destination.

Norman watches as the sudden movement causes Alex's face to shift from its blank, unseeing facade to a shattered mask of agony and panic. At the moment his legs give way both women are staring furiously at each other, leaving it to him to stop Alex from hitting the hard floor at his feet like a lead weight.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Word Count: **5200

**Disclaimer: **Not mine…mostly.**  
Rating: **Medical procedures.

**Spoilers: **A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.

**Summary: **Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.

**Chapter Summary:** What's going on with Alex…revealed. George gets some insight. Christina and Lexie connect, without words.

Thanks to IceWhisper (Comma Nazi) for beta-ing, all mistakes that you find are my own!

**Time in Tableaus – Chapter Three**

-

Callie's mouth is moving but the sounds that should be coming out seem to bounce off an invisible shield around him before they get close enough to register. He's aware enough to know that she looks mad but not aware enough to care and the second Dr. Bailey touches his arm the tenuous, clingy hold Alex has over his pain receptors completely shatters. How he doesn't vomit all over her, he has no idea. His eyes slam shut, there is no strength left in him for slow blinks now, and his last image is of grey, bumbling Norman lurching in his direction, arms outstretched in comical slow motion.

He'd laugh if he could be bothered and as it all goes black and soft he silently hopes that Norman gets to him in time.

-

There is a split second of absolute stillness and silence before everyone seems to react simultaneously. Norman has no idea how he managed to cover the required distance so quickly and the shock of making it means he's not quite prepared for how much of Alex's weight he ends up taking. They both land somewhat clumsily on the ER floor but nonetheless Norman is confident it is with less force than Alex would otherwise have encountered.

"Alex?"

His arms are wrapped protectively around Alex's middle and Alex's head is cushioned between Norman's ribs and the soft underside of his upper left arm. His legs are bent awkwardly up underneath him and Kelsey Churchill's words ring in his ears as Dr. Torres and Dr. Bailey both reach frantic hands in his direction.

_"He moved kinda last second but it still got him hard, he went over the hood I think..."_

"No, wait," he orders sharply with a false sternness and an authority that he doesn't feel and is shocked when both women freeze and turn their eyes towards him.

"Just, don't...touch him...Alex?" he diverts his attention from the staring women and back to Alex's slack face, still pressed up against his side.

-

"Dr. Stevens?"

Mark has the last of Kelsey's x-rays displayed on the light board and he indicates for Izzie to come forward and have a look.

"What do you think?"

"Well...ahh...Oh."

Izzie sees what Mark is alluding to and turns her face sideways to look at him.

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. How would you proceed?"

"How would I proceed? You're actually asking _me_ for my opin-"

"Dr. Stevens, I can always get someone else's opinion...if you're not sure, that is..."

Izzie recognises his words for the silent challenge that they are and wisely chooses to play smart. She takes a moment to consider the implications of the shard of glass that appears to not only have penetrated the skin but embedded itself completely in Kelsey's abdomen, before, and with sudden confidence, outlining a suitable pre-op and surgical plan to Mark Sloan.

He nods, lips parting in a sly half grin before turning to where Izzie's remaining interns are standing by Kelsey's bed.

"Have we managed to get hold of her mother yet?"

-

The second Alex goes slack under her touch, Miranda know she's made a huge mistake. She knew, she _knew,_ there were things going on that Alex wasn't admitting to. Gazing at him now, her own heart beating somewhere in the back of her throat, she can't believe she let him convince her into thinking he'd be okay. Norman's words startle her into abrupt stillness and a quick look to her left shows her Callie is frozen in a similar stance.

"Dr. Shale? What's...Alex? Alex?" She starts to move again, to shift her weight in their direction but is halted once more before she can stretch her trembling fingers towards the spot on Alex's neck where she is praying she will feel the steady rush of blood under her skin.

"I said, don't touch him..."

"What's going on?" Callie speaks this time and her voice sounds nothing like the angry, hot headed Chief Resident she was channelling only seconds earlier.

"Dr. Sloan's patient, young Kelsey Churchill, she said before the vehicle crashed through the diner window that it struck Alex and that he went over its hood..." Norman is desperately trying to keep his body still and his voice even. He can instinctively feel that both women are wound so tightly they are practically humming with nervous energy beside him, over stretched guitar stings, sharp and taut. "She seems to think that it struck him from behind and if I were to hazard a guess at where something of that height would hit then I would think it may be in young Alex's best interests if we were to proceed with a certain degree of caution, wouldn't you agree?"

Norman's words contain no malice or sarcasm, though he surreptitiously thinks that perhaps they both deserve a little of each. He looks up at them for only the second time since settling to the floor with Alex and sees lines of panicked guilt splashed with broad strokes across both their faces. He briefly acknowledges that they are probably already beating themselves up enough for now and is suddenly distracted by a shudder of movement in his arms. Only moments later a pair of pain hazed eyes crack open and bore into his own.

Momentarily conscious again, Alex's breathing speeds up and becomes painful to listen to, like hot air searing over sharpened steel, fast and harsh and raw.

"Alex, whoa, it's okay. Just keep still."

His own calming tones are echoed by two higher more frantic voices that he hopes Alex will have the sense to ignore for the moment and initially Norman thinks he has. But then, suddenly, Alex is struggling to release himself from Norman's tightening hold, to get himself into a sitting position.

"Alex, lay still. It's okay. Alex, please lay still."

He resists the urge to place a hand on Alex's forehead for he knows, somehow instinctively, that such a display of familiarity will only serve to unsettle an already disoriented Alex even further. Norman can see that a crowd is gathering and though he still steadfastly believes that caution is their top priority he also wants to insure his resident doesn't become the sideshow attraction he is quickly developing into.

He looks up as an abruptly authoritative voice seems to read his mind.

"Okay…okay, Yang? Get me a collar and a backboard over here now, we need oxygen and a..."

Norman watches with relief as Dr. Bailey takes over a situation that is already far beyond his limited medical experience.

-

Christina, shocked by the sudden turn of events, moves instinctively at Dr. Bailey's command. A year of responding to her barked instructions means Christina's reactions are automatic, second nature. She motions for Lexie to follow her and it's not until Christina is reaching for the requested cervical collar that she fully begins to consider its implications.

"What's wrong with him?"

The words are whispered, the voice to her left timid and somewhat uncertain and even though it merely echoes the exact question Christina is currently asking herself she can't help but snap back a sarcastic retort. She is unsure if the spite is just her usual reaction to her intern or based on something more primal, something barely recognisable, something that almost tastes a little like guilt.

-

The ER is pulsing red and blue in front of her eyes and Callie can't stop staring at Alex, still slumped in a tangle of arms and legs on the floor. She feels sick and she knows it's got nothing to do with the fact that she skipped breakfast this morning.

And dinner last night for that matter.

Thankfully, Norman seems to be holding Alex fairly firmly in place at the moment and Miranda has taken charge of the growing crowd because Callie barely has control of her own fraying sanity. For the most part, Alex seems to be slipping in and out of consciousness and every time his eyes close Callie has to fight the urge to scream in his face and shake him back to waking.

_'Don't do this to me, Karev, please don't do this to me, not now, not now, not now...'_

The sentence repeats like a mantra in the back of her mind. It gets louder and louder with each reverberating _not now_ and she knows it's totally unfair, knows that Alex didn't do this to deliberately ruin her day, though she can't help but think everything seems out to get her at the moment.

Every damn thing.

Christina has returned with a cervical collar and an intern hovers by her shoulder with a red backboard and straps but Callie knows there is more to be done before they can even think about loading him onto it. His eyes are open at the moment, but they're glazed over and unfocused, and Callie shudders to think what type of pain would be required to create such an expression. She wants to speak, to tell him he's okay, that they're going to look after him because he looks scared beyond belief and she has always, _always_ imagined that Alex Karev would be scared of nothing; which is stupid, she knows, because everyone is scared of _something_. His left arm is wrapped around Norman's and his white knuckled fingers are twisted desperately into the sleeve of the older man's lab coat.

Miranda takes the collar from Christina's outstretched hand, swaps it for a muttered _have radiology on stand-by to go as soon as we get him up,_ and gets a sharp, efficient nod as a response. "Okay, Alex, you with me?"

His eyes slide in her direction and it feels like his eyelids have suddenly had their insides coated with sandy grit. He's with her...but only just.

"I'm just going to put this on you, okay? Just to be sure, then we're going to straighten you out and get you off this floor..."

"No, no, no, no..." Alex squeezes his eyes shut in protest, the repeated negative low and raw in the back of his throat. Panicked at the thought of being moved but suddenly lucid enough to try and pass it off as simply not wanting the collar on, he tries again for a sitting position, tries to get his legs out from where they are trapped up underneath him. The pain in his back is so breathtakingly intense and white hot and it contrasts so drastically to the icy cold that envelopes the rest of him that, for a moment, everything goes blue.

"'M okay, 'm fine, jus' lemme up..."

The collar is wrapped around his neck before he can slur any further protests and he hears voices suggest straightening out his legs _slowly and on the count of three_.

_One._

_Two._

He moans on the count of _three_, right on cue. The kind of guttural sound that takes a stranglehold of control and concentration, the kind of moan you make when you're trying your damnedest not to scream.

-

The OR is stiflingly silent and from where George is hovering behind Meredith's shoulder, he can't really see much which is doing nothing for his suddenly non-existent concentration levels. His thoughts are on everything but the patient on the operating table in front of him, they aren't even in this hospital at all at the moment. They're firmly ensconced back at The Archfield, in the second room from the left, out of the elevators on the thirty-first floor.

Then they're in the Church of Elvis, Las Vegas, a stereotypically trashy chapel with the celebrant sporting one of the most elaborate and _realistic_ Elvis wigs George has ever seen in person. Actually, scratch that, the _only_ Elvis wig George has ever seen in person, so maybe it's not that remarkable after all.

He's nudged from his reverie by an elbow to his ribs and the sudden contact has him dropping the notebook and pen he had poised in a studious guise in front of him. He lurches to the floor to collect his displaced items, the notepad is within reach but, horrifically, the pen has rolled about a metre and a half forward and is resting against the white shoe of the anaesthetist perched at the head of the operating table.

"O'Malley? Care to keep your personal belongings under control in my OR?"

"No, I mean...Yes, I'm sorry...Dr. Shepherd, I'll just..." he scurries forward and snatches up the offending implement, tries not to flinch (again) when the anaesthetist gazes down at him with undisguised scorn.

He hurries back into position behind Meredith, gives himself a stern, internal _concentrate_ as she grins at him tightly from behind her surgical mask, full of doe eyed sympathy and what he thinks might be understanding but he knows she doesn't understand and he knows he doesn't deserve the sympathy.

He tries to grin back in sheepish thanks, but he can't.

_If only you knew, Mer..._

-

"Alex? Alex? Can you tell me what happened? What do you remember?"

"Lucy? Luce?"

"Alex, it's Dr. Bailey..."

"LUCY?"

"Alex? Alex, look at me..." There are fingers on his forehead suddenly, hot against his cold skin.

"I need you to answer some questions for me, can you do that?" He tries to nod that he can but there are hands on either side of his head, partially covering his ears, that hold him tightly still.

"Can you remember what happened? How did you get hurt?"

"No, no, 'm fine, 'm fine..."

"Alex, did the car hit you? Alex?" He can tell she is getting frustrated with him but she won't listen to him when he says he's fine. In fact, now that he is lying flat he feels so much better, nothing really hurts any more, except maybe his wrist and that he can definitely live with.

"Alex? Can you feel this?" A different voice this time, Dr. Torres, Callie. At least she's not yelling at him any more.

"Alex? Can you feel this?" She's out of his field of vision, so he has no idea what she's talking about and he vaguely thinks that's probably bad. Very bad.

He hears shouted orders for MRI's and CAT scans, various drugs and lines, monitors and tests, and he feels his eyes drift shut again, the act of keeping them open no longer something he is capable of achieving.

-

"Okay, so, Kelsey," Izzie pulls the seat up to beside Kelsey's head before sinking into it and resting her elbows on the edge of the mattress, "the x-rays have shown us that there's a piece of gla-"

"Do you think Alex is okay? I mean, he was walking around and talking to me and stuff and he said..."

"I'm sure he'll be just fine, Alex is pretty tough, he'll probably have done more damage to the car that its done to him."

"I can remember it more clearly now, watching him run past and then seeing the SUV coming towards him, I remember wanting to knock on the glass and warn him to get out of the way but I had a tray of coffees in my hands and I didn't know where to...anyway, guess it was kinda dumb in the end. I shoulda just dropped them 'coz that's pretty much where they ended up anyway...I don't even like coffee."

Her last words are clipped, as though she's trying not to cry and Izzie picks her bandaged hand up off the mattress and rests it lightly on her own.

"Hey, I'm sure it wouldn't have mattered, even if you had been able to knock, Alex is pretty quick, so if there wasn't time for him to get out of the way then the car must have been coming pretty fast..."

Kelsey nods in reluctant agreement, blinking fiercely in an attempt to keep her tears at bay.

"I've seen him before, you know..."

"Who? Alex?"

"No, well, yeah...him too, but no, I mean the guy with the gun. Jason I think. He's been in the shop a few times with Lucy, usually for breakfast and always with her. She'd been coming in by herself lately but before that, they used to come in together all the time."

The tears she is fighting escape suddenly and slide down the sides of her face, twin lines of salty betrayal.

"Hey, it'll be okay, you know..."

She shakes her head, just the barest of movements, "I don't think so..." then, more forcefully, "...no, no I don't think so. I have glass in me, actually _in_ me, and Lucy's dead and Alex..."

"Is probably just fine, and you will be too as soon as your Mum gets here and we can take you off to surgery."

"Do you really think so? Do you really think I'll be okay?"

"I know so, because I'm going to be there to watch Dr. Sloan do his thing. He's the best, you know, but don't tell him I told you that, because he already thinks he's God's gift to women..." Izzie winks one eye in Kelsey's direction conspiratorially, grinning at Kelsey's softly giggled reply.

"Yeah, I kinda got that impression already. I guess he's alright but, you know, I think Alex is _way_ cuter!"

"Ooooh, _definitely_ don't tell him that! Actually, don't tell either of them that! Alex and Dr. Sloan are a lot alike in that department...but you're right you know, Alex is cuter...and nicer, but he'll pretend he isn't most of the time. Likes people to think he's a tough guy."

"Ooooh, a bad boy...I like bad boys!"

"Nah, Alex is only a pretend bad boy, he's a big teddy bear underneath it all. You should see him with the babies 'round here...he goes all gooey and soft..."

"Lucy was going to have a baby..."

"Yeah," Izzie sighs, patting Kelsey's hand gently once again, "yeah, I heard that."

-

"We need a neurosurgical consult down here now," Callie only just manages to keep the hysteria out of her voice as she shouts in Christina's direction, "Get Derek Shepherd down here, now."

"Uh, he's in surgery with the shoo..."

"I said, get Shepherd down here, now," Callie re-states through clenched teeth. She returns Christina's nod of understanding with one of her own before raising her eyes to meet first Miranda's and then Norman's, who still hasn't moved from his place beside Alex, a fact that Callie is oddly thankful for.

She reaches for a pair of scissors and begins to cut Alex's scrub top off with considerably more care than she would normally take. She has it almost all the way off before she notices the mottled bruising snaking its way round his side from a starting point somewhere on his back that she can't see.

"Shit, Dr. Bailey, you should probably take a look at this."

-

"God...what a mess..."

Derek's hands are moving skillfully, methodically as bone fragments after bone fragments are removed from where they are embedded in brain tissue.

"Mark's gonna have fun with this when I'm finished," he mutters, dropping another piece into a small silver dish that already contains numerous other shards just like it.

Meredith sighs through her surgical mask and Derek looks up briefly and catches her eyes as she speaks.

"It seems so unfair that he gets to make it..."

"He's not even close to _making it_ just yet, Dr. Grey..."

"I know that, but...you know what I..."

The rest of her sentence tapers off as the door to the OR swings open and despite the gown and the mask being held in place over her nose and mouth Meredith recognises Christina instantly.

"Christina? What's...?"

"Dr. Yang, I think Dr. Grey made it perfectly clear that you wer-"

"Ah, Dr. Shepherd, we need you downstairs..."

"Christina?" Meredith interjects before Derek cuts her off.

"I'm in the middle of trying to save this man's life Dr. Yang, whatever's going on in the ER will just have to..."

"Dr. Shepherd, Dr. Torres and Dr. Bailey really need you in the ER urgently..."

Derek, who is yet to even look up, places the silver instrument in his hand down into the bowl with a ringing clatter before turning his head to look in her direction.

"Well if Dr. Torres and Dr. Bailey have requested me then it _must_ be urgent..." sarcasm dripping like melting ice from his lips.

"Christina, what's going on?"

"Umm, I don't think...look, Derek..." all sense of hierarchy and rank gone, "just trust me okay?"

"Dr. Yang, I have this man's _brain_ exposed on...well, I guess technically it was exposed before I sliced him open but, that's beside the point, and..."

"For God sake, Alex, okay? It's Alex. He collapsed in the ER about ten minutes ago, turns out the freakin' SUV, being driven I might add, by the man with the exposed brain that you are so busy trying to save right now, ploughed into him before it went through the window. He's in and out of consciousness and didn't respond when Callie did a reflex test."

Christina's run to the OR and subsequent tirade leave her panting and for a moment, the in and out of her breath and the monotonous beeping of the heart rate monitor are the only sounds in the room before Derek looks up, first at Meredith and then towards the anaesthetist.

Both give him affirmative nods and he steps back without a word to follow Christina to the ER.

-

"Hey, Kelsey…look who's here…" Izzie motions to a spot slightly behind her and to the left where Kelsey's mother is currently in conversation with Mark Sloan, having her daughters condition explained as well as the implications of the surgery. Kelsey's grin is wide and immediate.

"So, you ready to go?"

"Ready to get that _thing_ outta me? Hell yeah…!"

Izzie grins back reflexively, feeling the young patients energy seep into her and using it to push aside her own worries.

"Well, before you go, I might just quickly go and make sure Alex is still as cute as ever for you…how's that sound?"

Kelsey's grin morphs slowly into a shy, sheepish smile, as though she's been caught out.

"Yeah, that'd be good, thanks…he runs past every now and then, I was outside once, cleaning one of the outdoor tables and he kinda smiled as he went past…God, how dumb does that sound?"

"It doesn't sound dumb at all…trust me…"

-

Miranda holds the ultrasound wand gently over Alex's abdomen before taking a jagged breath and pressing it to his skin, she can barely bring herself to look at the screen and it only takes seconds for her worst fears to be confirmed. The collective intake of breath around the bed is audible, even above the background noise and beeping machinery.

"Shit…shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…" Callie scrubs her hands over her face and presses her fingers deep into her eyes.

"No, Callie, look at me…Dr. Torres, look at me…" she looks up reluctantly.

"This, Callie, is not your fault."

"But-"

"Dr. Torres, this is _not_ your _fault_."

Callie exhales slowly in defeat, "I know, I know it's not…"

"Dr. Shale, we need to type and cross match and get the blood bank on stand-by and then can you see if you can get hold of Alex's medical records…" he is nodding and noting her every word.

"Should I perhaps get his next of kin details for you too?"

Miranda nods in the affirmative without really thinking and it's not until Norman retreats around the corner and out of sight that she realises that might not be such a good idea after all.

"Dr. Bailey?"

Miranda looks up as Derek enters the ER and almost sags with relief.

-

"Okay, Dr. Torres I want you to hold his head as…"

Callie hold her hands out, palms face down, in front of her and smiles wryly at the violent shaking, "Probably not the best idea, Dr. Shepherd."

Derek looks across to Christina who instantly moves in to place at the head of the bed, relegating Callie to Alex's feet.

"Okay, I'm just going to do a quick check before we get him to radiology and then off to theatre, we don't really have any time to waste here…"

Christina looks towards Lexie and begins to raise her eyebrows, to silently asking if she is okay to do this. She gets a tight smile and a small nod in affirmative response before she can complete the movement and Christina wonders briefly when she and Lexie started being able to have entire conversations without words.

The shift in position increases Alex's blood pressure and has him returning to excruciating consciousness. His eyes open and all he can see are hands, feet, and the blue of surgical scrubs and he struggles to reign in his imploding panic levels. There are hands on his neck working their way down his spine carefully and he thinks, in that split second of his life, that he has never been more terrified.

Suddenly the curtain that is blocking his blurred view of the rest of the ER is ripped open with a loud _hey, Alex_ before…

"Alex?"

Izzie's fingers fly to her lips and she looks from Dr. Bailey to Christina to Derek, a rapid, confused montage of frozen faces and eerie silence.

"Dr. Stevens…"

"What's…?"

"Izz…"

The last voice is the quietest, the most breathy but it's also the one that gets everyone's attention.

Izzie still can't begin to comprehend what is going on, why they have Alex secured in a collar and why Christina's hands are wrapped around his head and neck, why Callie appears to be crying and why Derek is _looking_ at him like that…

"Izzie, maybe you should…"

"Izz…get me out?"

She looks towards Alex again, forgets to breathe for a moment as his voice slices through her chest and his eyes, liquid and hazy, reinforce his plea.

"Please Izzie? Get me out of here…please…"

"Dr. Stevens."

Dr. Bailey's delivery of her name is more command and direction than it is a question and Izzie nods back at her once before kneeling down to bring herself to eye level with Alex, tries to wipe her tears away before she gets there, tries not to scare him any more than he obviously already is.

"Shhh, Alex, it's okay. It'll be over in a minute. Just hold still for a little longer, okay?"

He squeezes his eyes shut at her words and she places a hand softly, like a whisper, on his cheek.

"Izzie, Izzie, Izzie…God…it hurts…"

"I know, but it's okay. It'll be okay…"

-

The silence in the OR is now even more stifling than it was before. George has stepped into where Derek had been and is helping Meredith keep the site irrigated, waiting for Derek to return. He feels sick and is taking deep breaths to try and calm down. He looks up at Meredith every few seconds, like it's a compulsion he can't control, and almost every time he does, Meredith is staring back at him anyway, so he doesn't think it matters.

"Shit. I can't…George?"

He looks up again, a reflex before nodding in understanding.

"I'll go see what I can find out."

Derek is still examining Alex's spine when George cautiously pulls back the curtain and peers in. Izzie is crouched in front of Alex's face and he can see that they are both crying, Izzie has her hand on his face and is whispering him, her lips moving with words George is thankful he can't hear. They're looking at each other like there is no-one else in the room, like nothing else matters, and George is confused to discover he is more pleased than jealous at this revelation.

He turns his attention to Callie briefly, realises that she has been watching him watching _them_. She is also crying, or she has been anyway, and the smudged mascara reminds him of earlier that morning, pressed up against the hotel room wall.

"Dr. O'Malley? Is everything okay?"

"Ahh, yes, Meredith…I mean Dr. Grey, she's doing fine but she was wondering, well…we all were…if everything's…"

He trails off, knows Derek understands exactly what he's saying despite the jumbled compilation of vowels and consonants he has just delivered.

"Well, I'm done here for the moment, so you can report back to Dr. Grey that I'll be back there in a moment. Okay?"

George nods, but it's not the information he wanted.

Derek knows that.

"Yes, I'll tell her, but…I think…"

"Dr. O'Malley, I'll be back there in a minute."

"Yes, Doctor. Right…I'll let her know."

Izzie doesn't even turn around.

-

Alex's blood pressure drops when they turn him back, he loses consciousness instantly and a quick ultrasound shows his liver is still bleeding.

"Okay, we're going to have to get him straight to theatre, or a spinal injury is going to be the least of his problems."

Izzie is holding an oxygen mask in place over Alex's nose and mouth, the collar preventing it from being secured conventionally. She motions for Lexie to take over for her.

"Shit, I'm meant to be…Mark, he'll kill me, I've got to…Christina?"

Christina nods, knows exactly what Izzie means, meets her eyes with a silent _we'll look after him_.

-

"Dr. Sloan?" Izzie slips through the OR doors, still in the process of tying her facemask securely at the back of her head. "I'm sorry, I got held up and…"

"Kelsey told me where you were, everything okay?"

She looks up to meet his eyes but doesn't answer straight away. Doesn't need to.

"Do you want…"

"No, no, it's okay, Dr. Bailey and Callie and Christina are with him…and ah, Derek." She almost chokes on his name and its hidden implications.

Mark holds her gaze for a second before returning his attention to the surgery.

-

Derek re-enters the OR and a drawn out pause is broken suddenly by everyone speaking at once.

"_Is everything…?"_

"_What's…?"_

"Is he…? 

The flat lining of the heart monitor brings everyone to an immediate silence.

-

Mark carefully dissects around the shard, Izzie holds out a pair of forceps to him and has to concentrate on keeping her hand stilled.

"Pressure's dropping…."

"What?"

The anaesthetist speaks again, "pressure's dropping, is she bleeding anywhere else?"

"No, I've hardly done anything yet…what…"

"Still dropping, shit…she must be reacting to the anaesthesia…"

-

"Okay," Miranda looks across Alex's prone figure to Christina standing opposite her. "You ready to do this?"

Christina nods quickly and Miranda picks up a scalpel.

Almost immediately there is blood everywhere and Miranda instinctively knows it is still coming, fights through the mess to find its source.

"C'mon, c'mon, Karev…you will not…"

But he will, and he does and the rapid crashing of the heart rate monitor, the frantic screaming and the bleated warnings all merge with the rushing of her own blood between her ears. She looks up quickly, to get some perspective, some distance, some _clarity_ only to catch the forlorn sight of Norman in the gallery, both hands pressed to the glass, looking helplessly down upon them.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Not mine…mostly.**  
****Rating:** Somewhat descriptive sexual images.

**Spoilers: **A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.

**Summary: **Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.

**Chapter Summary:** Hints of a threesome, Alex starts the recovery process and so do George and Callie.

Thanks to IceWhisper (Comma Nazi) for beta-ing, all mistakes that you find are my own!

**Time in Tableaus – Chapter Four**

**-**

Alex leaves it until just before the witching hour to make his escape from the hospital. He guesses, and correctly too, which is the only bit of luck he's had go his way recently, that the halls will be relatively empty and if he can manage to get himself into his causal clothes, delivered only yesterday by an ever helpful Izzie, then his escape should be pretty much guaranteed.

He foregos the t-shirt completely, doesn't think he can quite coordinate a broken back and a broken wrist to get the damn thing over his head anyway, and instead slips into a zip up jacket. Sweatpants are the next problem 'cause bending down isn't as easy as it once was, but he's determined and desperate and with only minimal support from the mattress, okay...so maybe white knuckled gripping of the bed sheets is a little more than minimal, he manages to work his somewhat uncooperative bottom half into the soft material.

Dressed, he sinks his teeth into the plastic patient ID bracelet around his right wrist and pulls, but the rigid strap won't budge so he pulls his jacket sleeve down an inch further to cover it and decides to risk leaving with it still on. Slipping out into the hallway proves much easier than anticipated with the stretch of tiled walkway gloriously people-free. He makes it all the way to the front doors before he feels a slight tug of disappointment that no one has noticed him leave. He thinks, for starters, that it's pretty poor security, and secondly, isn't he more important than this? Where are the bells and whistles? Red lights and alarm sirens? Then he gives himself a mental kick to the backside and reminds himself that _this is exactly what he wanted_. Anonymity and freedom.

Despite the late hour there are cabs pulled up outside the hospital in the rank, waiting for willing customers and he slowly lowers himself into the first one with only a fleeting grimace and grins, lopsided and a bit wide eyed, at the driver. He rattles off Meredith's address and settles back to enjoy his first view of the outside world in...god...how long has it been?

When the cab pulls up outside Meredith's house he knows challenge two is about to begin, and, more than likely, this is where the shit is going to hit the fan. He hands over a small wad of cash and winks at the driver,_ keep the change, _before grabbing his backpack out and hauling it over his right shoulder. As the cab pulls away from the curb, leaving him exposed and alone on the sidewalk at the front of the house, he takes a moment to look up at the brick structure and note the lights on in a few of the rooms. Meredith's...probably means Derek's here...or Christina...even better. He's always thought there was something more to their friendship than just well...friendship. There are also lights on downstairs but the top left hand corner window is also lit and he wonders briefly if he's been gone longer than he thinks and the room has been rented to someone else, because it's _his_ room.

Curious now, he wraps his hand around the front door knob and is relieved to find it open. He hadn't thought about needing a key. Would have ruined the surprise had he had to knock. Once inside, the house is eerily quiet and he pops his head into the television room where it is on but soundless, the red cross in the corner of the screen indicating someone has hit the mute button. There are clothes strewn all over the floor, jeans and shirts and a bra, no wait, he's pretty sure there's _two_ bras and now the curiosity that peaked when was outside has suddenly morphed into something a whole lot more primal and raw. _What the hell is going on?_

The kitchen lights are off, so he bypasses that room and heads straight for the stairs. There's a pair of panties, about half way up, small and red, a mere _scrap_ of lace.

"Jesus..." he whispers, intrigue bubbling through his veins, "...what the...?"

He can see now that it's not a light on in Meredith's room, but candles, dozens of them, maybe even one hundred of them, all of them lit and basking the room in an earthy glow. Lavender and strawberries and a hint of cinnamon. He grins to himself, can't even help it. Begins to think he should sneak home more often.

He dares a peek into the softly lit room, there is movement up against the far wall and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust, another second for the images to come into focus and then another second for his whole body to come alive. They're pressed so tightly together that he can't see where one starts and the other finishes and quite frankly he doesn't really care either. He can hear panting and every now and then a soft moan that he recognises instantly as Meredith. The _harder, baby_ though, that's all Christina and as she tips her head back, black tresses reaching almost to her butt, Alex steps back into the shadows and out of view.

"Wow...what the freakin' hell...? Freakin' twilight zone..."

He's mumbling to himself and walking towards his own room, can't help but wonder...if _that's_ going on in _there_...then what the hell's going on in _here_...?

Again the door is open, but there are no candles this time, just a cool glow from the lamp that sits on the floor beside his bed, he's never bothered to buy a stand for it, has always moved around too much for accumulating furniture. There is a body on his bed, laying face up but with one slender arm flung across her eyes, and he can tell it's a her from the white knickers and the matching bra that can barely contain the breasts that spill out from its intricate lace. The breasts are moving, heaving, up and down in rhythmic motion and he has to reign himself back in before he realises she's crying. It's Izzie and she's crying, on his bed.

"Izz...?"

The sobs increase and she twists one hand into the blue sheet under her back, as though she's holding on and doesn't want to let go. Alex wonders what the matter is and hopes it's not something he's done, wonders if she regularly uses his room to cry in.

"Izzie...are you...?"

She stops this time at the sound of his voice. Removes the hand and sits up, suddenly overjoyed. He's somewhat amazed at the remarkable transformation from sobbing to exultant, but is quickly distracted by the breasts...again...and finds it hard to be coherently amazed by anything anymore.

"Alex. Oh, Alex! You're back...you're...God...I've missed you so, so much..."

She launches off the bed, but instead of heading in his direction as he anticipates, she takes a step back and leans against the back wall of his room, slides one foot up so that her sole is pressed against the cream paint, her knee bent, raises her hands above her head, taking some of her hair with her, cocks her head to the side seductively, as if the rest wasn't seductive enough.

"Yeah, I...uh..." he really is having an unreasonable amount of difficulty thinking at this exact moment in time, lacking adequate blood flow to his brain cells he expects.

"Alex?"

He turns, suddenly, comically. Arms flailing slightly as the sound from behind startles him back into action.

"Ahhh..."

"Oh, hi, you're back." Meredith turns to Izzie and tilts her head to mirror Izzie's pose, naked as the day she was born. "Christina and I could hear you crying, we thought you might need some cheering up..."

Alex looks slowly from one to the other to the other, confused, astounded, and in the best possible way. Christina – naked, Meredith – naked, Izzie – practically naked and they're looking at each other, and looking at him and it's like all his hopes, all his fantasies, all his wildest _dreams_ have come...

Unfortunately the rise to consciousness for Alex is not gradual, it is sudden and gut wrenching and utterly terrifying. For one thing there is a tube down his throat, well he assumes it's a tube because he hasn't actually opened his eyes yet so he can't be certain, and for another, consciousness brings with it a scorching agony that seems to have no specific source, just a pulsating mass of screaming nerve endings. Fortunately consciousness doesn't last long.

-

_Earlier..._

Alex stabilises as quickly and as suddenly as he crashes and Miranda wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into him. How dare he to this to them, how _dare_ he? By the time she places the last stitch, she is as emotionally wrung out as she has ever been, one look over the table to Christina tells her that she is equally done in, and Callie...Callie appears to be barely standing, but there is a neat white cast on Alex's left wrist and a row of dark stitches across his belly and his heart is still beating so Miranda knows they have done the best job they could for him.

-

Derek is good at what he does, very good, quite possibly the best. Even he can't save this patient though. There's too much damage, he's done too much damage, to himself and to everyone else around him. Derek doesn't think he'll lose too much sleep over this one. He looks over at Meredith and she shrugs he shoulders, he doesn't think she will either.

-

Izzie realises she's stopped breathing under her surgical mask, is holding her breath and waiting for the screaming of the heart rate monitor to slow back down to a dull roar in her ears. She doesn't start again until Mark says her name, twice, and commands her attention.

"Izzie, Dr. Stevens...you with us?"

Everyone's looking at her expectantly and she nods her head then forgets to stop again, starts to chuckle, then to laugh hysterically, until she's not so much _holding_ her breath as physically _unable_ to breathe. She sets down the forceps she is clinging to and staggers her way into the scrub room, hastily scrubs out and slides, sobbing, to the cold floor.

-

Norman exits the empty gallery, there's a sign on the door indicating the gallery is closed, he knows this because he put it there before sliding into the raised viewing area himself. He can't tear his eyes away from the scene below him but, equally, he can't watch anymore so instead he takes himself to human resources to request Alex's next of kin details, he hopes the normalcy of the task will distract him from the absolute absurdity that the rest of his day has been.

_-_

_Now..._

Izzie has reached the stage of exhaustion where her head keeps listing forward towards her bent knees, before sudden awareness jerks her back to reluctant waking again. She knows she must look ridiculous, but she also knows that no one else in the room is looking at her anyway. Norman, sitting opposite her but higher up and, more sensibly, in a chair is reading the newspaper. She can't see him, but she knows this to be true because every now and then she can hear the paper rustle as he turns the page. The room's only other occupant is still ominously silent and even though she knows he's not _unconscious_ anymore, merely _sleeping_, she still can't help staring intermittently at the heart monitor screen that towers over her, just to be sure. He woke briefly about an hour ago and the ventilator tube was hastily removed, a fact for what Izzie is especially grateful. It's been much easier to convince herself that he's just fine since that has been taken away.

"Dr. Stevens?"

She looks up to see that Norman has risen and rounded the bed, he is peering down at her, questioningly and she shifts slightly on the floor, her backside steadily growing numb, but she doesn't care.

"Yes?"

"Don't you think you should..."

She sighs and the sound seems to stop him mid-sentence, a fact for which she is surprisingly glad.

"I'm fine, really. You've been here just as long as I have..."

"Yes, I know, but..."

"But nothing, I'm not going anywhere. At least not until he wakes up properly."

"I've had practice at this, you know? Waiting for people to wake up, young people, people that shouldn't, well...you know..."

She nods slowly and with a sad smile, because she does know. She's done this before too.

-

Meredith's tequila shot remains, untouched, on the counter top in front of her. It's been that way, untouched, since Joe sat it there almost forty five minutes ago. Christina's is gone, the small vessel upside down on the bar mat in a triumph that she does not feel. It's late, even for a bar, and they are almost the only customers in it, Meredith can't decide if Joe is preparing to kick them out or preparing to sleep there, overnight, with them.

"He's...okay though...right? I mean, he'll be...?"

The usually articulate Joe is getting gradually more and more incoherent as the minutes since they broke the news to him tick by.

Christina can't bring herself to answer and is grateful when Meredith's shoulders move sluggishly upwards before settling back into their drooped stoop. A silent and pleading _I don't know_ that has Joe rubbing his hands over his face.

"I asked for this you know?" Christina remarks, finally voicing the thoughts that have been eating away at her conscience all afternoon.

"What?"

"I asked for this, all of it, it's my fault. God, I was practically begging for something like this to happen. I mean, jeez Meredith, you heard me..." dejected guilt isn't an emotional state Christina has had much experience in and she has absolutely no idea what to do with it.

"It's not your..."

"Yes, it is. All morning I was practically _begging_ for something like this to happen, God I was _excited_ when the call came through about the car accident and the shooting...remember? You must remember, you were right there...I was...I'm such a..."

"Christina, you _practically beg_ for things like this to happen every day we are at work, this is not your fault."

"But, it's karma or something, and it's Evil Spawn, I'm not even supposed to like him..." Joe baulks slightly at her words and Christina makes a mental note to remember that Joe and Alex are kinda like friends, "...but I do really, I guess, and..." anything further fails her.

-

"Are you okay?" Miranda's voice startles Callie out of the trance-like clock staring she is doing.

"It's tomorrow..."

"Pardon?"

"It's tomorrow, as in, not today anymore."

"Callie...are you..."

Callie's laugh starts low and deep in her gut and by the time it escapes her lips it has morphed into an exhausted sob that only adds to the _crazy_ she is currently channeling.

"Callie?"

"George slept with Izzie. George _slept_ with Izzie."

Miranda blinks because she has no idea what to say, there are no words for this.

"And I want to hate her, I _do_ hate her and I hate him. But...I love him and she, with Alex, she was so good with him and I don't think any of us could have done that for him...what she did, and I want to hate her...but I don't, and it's tomorrow." She looks over at Miranda and smiles sadly, "All day I just kept saying _tomorrow will be better,_ but now it's tomorrow and I think maybe everything is worse."

-

"Dr. Stevens?"

Izzie looks up at Norman again, he is back in his seat and all she can see is the very top of his greying head. She moves to get her feet underneath her and uses the window sill to pull herself to standing. Her right foot is completely numb and the sensation makes her feel physically ill.

"Dr. Stevens? I meant to ask you..."

Izzie tries to look interested in whatever Norman is about to say but pins and needles are eating her right calf muscle and she has to take a deep breath and zone him out completely to stop herself from vomiting all over the bed in front of her.

"...Admin. said they didn't have any next of kin details for Alex, does that sound right to you?"

"What?" Izzie is still distracted by the sensation in her leg and if she moves her toes the nausea increases ten fold, she wonders if this is what it's going to be like for Alex when he wakes up, she has taking to refusing to believe he'll never walk again, is actively not even entertaining the thought.

"Admin. They said there were no next of kin details for Alex...no contact details for his father, mother, siblings...nothing. I wanted to..."

"No."

"No? No what?"

"No. No next of kin."

"No next of kin?"

"No."

"No?"

Izzie sighs, "Norman."

He pushes the paper aside, sets it in a messy jumble at his feet.

"Dr. Stevens."

"Norman." Izzie smiles ridiculously and thinks this is quite probably the most absurd conversation she has ever been involved in.

"Everybody has..."

"Alex doesn't, okay?"

"He doesn't? So, his parents..."

"Are not people he would want to see here when he wakes up."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"Why is that?"

"Norman..."

"No, truly, Alex is going to need..."

"He won't _need_ anything from them. He'll have me, and you...if you want, and he won't need anything from them."

"Okay." Norman pauses for a beat. "So they're alive then? He just doesn't..."

"I have no idea where they are and I know for a fact that Alex would want it to stay that way."

"So...did they..."

"Norman..."

Any further rebuke is cut off by the sudden shifting of fingers against the white hospital sheets that causes the snaking IV to shudder slightly.

"Alex?"

The fingers move again and Izzie curls her own into them reassuringly as Norman stands to shadow her from the opposite side of the bed.

Dark lashes crack open tentatively and Alex's lips part, "Izz?"

The sound is breathy and almost consumed by the machinery that still monitors Alex's every heartbeat and intake of breath, but to Izzie it is the only sound in the room.

"Yeah, Alex. I'm here, it's okay."

"Izz..." His eyes flutter closed again, pause that way for a beat, before opening again, wider this time and with a little more clarity.

"Shhh, it's okay."

"What..." Alex swallows harshly before continuing, "What happened?"

Izzie frowns and moves her gaze quickly from Alex to Norman and back again. The movement confuses Alex and his own eyes slide away from her quickly, to settle in a squint on Norman.

"Hello, Dr. Karev."

"What..."

His gaze shifts back to Izzie, confusion morphing into a wide eyed fear that taps out its beat via the heart monitor.

"Shhh, Alex. It's okay...shhhh." She lifts a hand and runs it over his forehead, risks a tentative smile, and hopes to God it will calm him down.

"What happened?"

"There was an accident remember? A car crashed into a diner, we think it probably hit you first."

Alex's eyes close as he exhales and Izzie would like to think that he's drifted back to sleep but she can see the tension in his face and isn't at all surprised when his eyes snap back open again.

"Kelsey?"

"She's fine Alex. She needed surgery to get some of the glass out, but she's going to be fine. Her mum is in with her."

Alex nods and smiles fleetingly. "Good."

"How are you feeling?"

The words terrify Izzie, even as she speaks them, because of what truths they may bring. Her heart thumps in the back of her throat, making it impossible to swallow.

" 'm okay..." he whispers, not meeting her gaze.

"Alex?"

He relents and turns his head slightly towards her

" 'm screwed aren't I?"

-

George pulls up suddenly, just two steps from Alex's open doorway. The blinds of his ICU cubicle are parted into horizontal slits that give George a distorted view of the scene inside. He can tell that Alex is awake, Izzie appears to be talking to him. Norman is blocking most of the action but George can see Izzie's fingers interlaced with Alex's, like they're both holding on for dear life. Norman takes a step back and turns around suddenly and George freezes in position, eyes locked on Norman's as he takes a step towards the doorway, appearing to leave.

Norman's abrupt departure give George an unimpeded view of Alex and Izzie and he can now see why the other doctor would be leaving. Izzie's other hand, the one not locked with Alex's, is on his forehead and comes away every so often to swipe at tears that creep their way down her cheeks.

"Maybe just give them a minute."

Norman's words startle him and he jumps visibly, manages to turn it into a somewhat vigorous nod of agreement.

"Yeah...yeah, I can see...I'll...uh...come back. I'll come back later."

George turns as he's speaking and begins his escape, for that is what this has suddenly become. He doesn't need to go in there anymore anyway. He knows everything he came to find out.

Everything is suddenly crystal clear.

He finds Callie in the ortho suite, exactly where he knew she would be, although at first he is tricked into thinking the room is empty. The lights are off it's not until he turns to leave again that he sees the flash of white skin, like a ghost in the corner.

He opens his mouth to speak her name but decides against it at the last second, moves in her direction instead and slides down the wall beside her, shoulder to shoulder, close but not quite touching. He can see that she has her wedding ring off and is passing it idly between her fingers, kneading it and twirling it around her fingertips. There are silver tears on her cheeks but she is totally silent, part of George wishes she would yell and scream and get it all out, because this...this silent caricature of his wife, it's not the real Callie and he knows he only has himself to blame for that.

"Callie?"

She doesn't answer, drops the ring instead and it pings tinnily as it hits the floor between her knees. George winces at the sound but doesn't speak again, reaches for her with his own hand instead and seeks out her fingers, finds them and latches on. Hopes to portray just a fraction of the love and support that Izzie's grip gives to Alex. Hopes the rest is filled with unspoken _I'm sorry_'s because he knows, instinctively, that now is not the time for empty words.

He closes his eyes when her fingers tighten around his, a white knuckled grasp that gives him something he knows he doesn't deserve.

That gives him hope.

-

Alex presses his lips together tightly, determined, desperate, not to show Izzie even a glimpse of the terror that is threatening to consume him. He only has disjointed memories of earlier in the afternoon and he reluctantly accepts that this is probably something he should be grateful for. Izzie's fingers are still locked in his but her grip has grown lax and her head is on the mattress by his side, eyes closed. He uses her slumber as the space he needs to freak the hell out, alone. At some point in the hours prior to now he has been given some pretty hefty drugs, of that he is certain. He can see the pump on the shoulder of the bed that he is to use to administer his own morphine and can't help but think of that as _very bad sign number one_.

_Very bad sign number two _is sleeping beside him, granting him silent, momentary, reprieve.

_Very bad sign number three_ is the white dressing that he found during his brief inspection of all the body parts he could actually reach without moving. It's across his abdomen and is kinda larger than he would like, he guesses that rules out laproscopic surgery or an appendectomy.

_Very bad sign number four_ is fast on its way to becoming _reason number one for putting a bullet through his brain_. V_ery bad sign number four_ is the fact that the twin lumps at the end of the bed are the only reason he knows his legs are still attached, because, drugged oblivion aside, he can't feel a damn thing from the waist down and the only reason he hasn't thrown the blankets back and lurched out of bed to...to _see_, to _check_, to _confirm_, is because he needs to be alone when he does it.

Alone is how he gets through things like this. Like _this_. Alone.

He really needs to be a-freakin'-lone. Right now.

Ten minutes ago.

-

"How do they do it?"

"How does who do what?"

The surgeon's lounge is empty, which, considering the hour, isn't really all that surprising.

Mark sighs before reaching into the fridge for a bottle of water, pauses and grabs out another, tosses it lightly to Derek, standing in the doorway a few metres away.

"The interns, how do they suck you in like they do?"

"Oh, residents, you mean residents, they're residents now," Derek corrects.

"Interns, residents, whatever, doesn't really matter. They weasel their way in without you even really noticing it don't they?"

"You know, you are allowed to like them. There aren't any rules that say attendings have to hate the residents."

"I know, but...what's the point really? Of liking them? It just makes teaching them so much more difficult when you like them too but, then months pass and you realise that, shit, you do actually like them and you care what happens to them, and you haven't even noticed it happening. Don't even know it _has_ happened. Then today happens and...everything's wrong."

"It's not wrong to care about what happens to them..."

"But, why? Why would I care? Why would I..."

"Mark, go home. Go to sleep. When you wake up in the morning, I promise you, you'll hate them again."

-

George's butt is killing him, his right cheek cramping in excruciating discomfort, but he doesn't dare move. Not a muscle, not an inch, for Callie is asleep on his shoulder. Soundly, deeply, enough to be snoring softly, and cramp aside, he finally realises that he would like to stay this way forever.

He is sober now, and so are his thoughts.

-

Izzie shifts in her sleep and Alex is torn between leaving her that way and waking her up. Risking her refusing to leave once she _is_ awake. With the way she is he can't quite reach the morphine pump and he can tell that it won't be long before he's really going to need it, in all honesty, he probably needed it half an hour ago, but he can't help but cling to the pain as a lifeline.

He slams his teeth together as something, somewhere in his back, spasms painfully. He cries out, a strangled sob that he can't stop. He grinds the back of his head into the pillow and tries to shift into a new position, one that doesn't send white hod rods of agony from his back to the top of his head, from his shoulders to his broken wrist to the tips of his fingers. The second sob wakes Izzie with a sudden jump and the movement as she rises abruptly from the bed only exacerbates Alex's situation and, despite the fact that his jaw is deliberately clamped shut, causes him to groan from deep in the back of his throat, a sound that reminds Izzie so clearly of only hours before in the emergency department.

"Alex? Alex, what's wrong?"

His breathing is erratic and he can't talk, even if he wants to, he can't say a single word. Izzie pulls an oxygen mask from the head of the bed and presses it tightly over his nose and mouth, his eyes are squeezed shut and his head is filled with nothing but white pain and black fear.

Nothing but white and black.

"Alex, I need you to press the pump, okay? You'll feel better in a second, just press the button."

He groans again but makes no move to obey, despite the fact that Izzie has pressed the device into his palm.

"Alex, please just press it..." she fumbles for her pager and hastily sends a request to Dr. Shepherd. "Alex..." he still hasn't moved so she depresses the button for him, "Alex, I pressed it, okay? I pressed it for you, it'll be okay in a second and Dr. Shepherd's on his way."

She settles a hand on the side of his face, wipes away trickles of sweat before they can fully form while using her other hand to remove the morphine pump from his desperate grip and replace it with her own icy palm. Hopes and prays he doesn't notice the terrified tremor she has suddenly developed.

"Everything okay?"

The new voice startles her, she wasn't expecting it for a few more minutes yet and as she turns to meet his gaze her face must give away her confusion.

"I was on my way up anyway..." Derek offers by way of an explanation to Izzie's questioning stare, before moving to stand beside Alex.

"Alex? What's going on?"

Alex, pale and sweaty against the white pillow, doesn't speak. His eyes are glazed over and only open to half mast and Derek concludes correctly that the morphine has kicked in.

"I think he was cramping or something...his back...I was, uh...asleep, I think...I woke up and he was..."

Derek nods slowly, listening to her ramble, taking in her words without looking at her.

"Unfortunately, that's to be expected. We'll just have to keep an eye on his pain meds. I might write him up for a stronger muscle relaxant too but I don't want to do too much until the swelling goes down."

Alex gazes back at him dazedly and whispers out a slurred _hey_.

"Hey." Derek smiles back.

" 'mm screwed...yeah?"

His eyes drift shut with the _yeah_ but pull open again a second later.

"Yeah?" he questions again, still terrified despite the drugs.

"No, Alex. You're not screwed, because we are going to do everything we can to fix this. Okay?" Despite the fact that Derek knows Alex will remember little of this in the morning, at the moment he is staring back at Derek desperately, like all his hopes are pinned to Derek's broad shoulders and Derek is disconcertingly compelled to reassure Alex, and maybe himself too. "There's just lots of swelling at the moment, okay? We've stabilised the fractures and there was no obvious cord damage, Alex...we just need to wait for the swelling to go down, okay?"

"Mmm, 'kay..."

Alex succumbs, finally giving in to the pull of oblivious relief.

"Derek?"

He turns in Izzie direction, finds her hovering at the end of the bed, fingers on her right hand worrying at her bottom lip.

"Do you mean that? What you just told him? Do you really think it's just the swelling?"

Derek pauses for a minute, knows he needs to be careful with what he says next.

"Yes, I've just had another look at the scans and I'm as sure as I can be at this stage that the paralysis is just being caused by the extensive swelling. But, you know as well as I do, it's really difficult to tell in these early stages, and he'll need physio and lots of rest and well, we really just have to wait."

She nods, has been nodding since he started speaking.

"Okay, we wait. I can do that...I can wait, and I can make him wait too."

EPILOGUE TO COME.


	5. Chapter 5

**Word Count: **4200

**Disclaimer: **Not mine...mostly.

**Rating: **This chapter...PG.

**Spoilers: **A rough AU continuation from Ep. 402 and 403.

**Summary: **Alex-centric drama that also includes all other characters, conventional pairings and break ups as a car crash and subsequent shooting have far reaching repercussions for many Seattle Grace staff members.

**Chapter Summary: **Bailey goes all mother hen, George and Izzie talk, Alex takes matters into his own hands, leaving Norman to pick up the pieces.

**Beta: **IceWhisper...thank you!!!

**Author's Note:** I know nothing really excuses the absurd lateness of this chapter BUT...(and there is always a but, right?!) in my defence, between this chapter and the previous one I have moved continents, started a new job, gone on a road trip and been in a car accident, so please forgive me and enjoy chapter 5 (which was meant to be an epilogue but somehow turned into a chapter all of its own).

**Time in Tableaus – Chapter Five**

-

"Excuse me." There is no polite inquisition in Miranda's voice, no calm questioning, and she plants her feet belligerently between the woman and the door she seems headed towards. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Um, I've got an appointment with the patient in this room. Is there something I..."

"Have you even met him yet? Introduced yourself?"

"No, I was planning to..."

"Because I can assure you, if you walk in there now, like that, with _that_, then the battle will be lost before you've even had a chance to begin it."

"Dr. ahh..." she squints, small grey eyes, at the tag clipped to Miranda's lab coat, and Miranda fights the urge to slap her across the face, "Dr. Bailey...I know this patient..."

"This patient has a name, this patient is Alex Karev, and I can assure you, you do not know the _first thing_ about this patient" Miranda takes a step backwards, closer to, and still in front of, the aforementioned doorway, raises a hand in the woman's direction, fingers spread. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I suggest you wait out here a moment and re-think your strategy on this one."

Before the bewildered physiotherapist can respond, Miranda turns and passes through the doorway herself, tugs it quietly closed again behind her.

"Dr. Bailey?"

The voice is quiet and hoarse, raw from lack of use and still recovering from the various tubes that have been fed down it, listening to it is like listening to fingernails across a chalk board, and in some ways it's got nothing to do with how it sounds.

"Alex. I'm sorry, I thought you'd be sleeping, I was just coming to..."

"Who was that?"

"Pardon? Who was who?"

"Outside just now, you were talking to someone. Who was it?"

She can tell from the set of his jaw and the dark clouding of his eyes that he knows already, is just waiting for her confirmation.

"I'm sorry, Alex. I didn't realise you could hear what..."

"I'm crippled, not deaf." Defensive terror, something she is becoming accustomed to. "Who was it? What did they want?"

"Alex..."

"Who was it?"

"It was the physiotherapist..."

"What did she want?"

"Alex..."

"What did she want? Did she have a wheelchair?"

"Alex, please..."

"Did she?"

Miranda nods because she can't bear the thought that her words are going to break his heart. It makes no difference.

"I'm not...you can tell her...I won't...Dr. Bailey, tell her? Tell her I'm not..."

"Alex..."

"...Tell her I'll never...that there's no way...no freakin' way..."

"_Alex_..."

"...I don't need...Dr. Bailey, make sure, okay? That she knows...make sure she..."

"_**Alex**_."

He stops this time, unspoken words hanging loosely from the tip of his tongue. Miranda has moved to the side of his bed and has her hands pressed against his shoulders, making him listen.

"Alex, it's only temporary, okay?" She has no idea if this is true, but wishes it with all her heart and, somehow, she thinks that will make this all okay.

"No...no, no, no..." he shakes his head maniacally in time with his words, so she moves her hands to the sides of his face.

"Alex, listen to me. Okay? Promise you'll listen to me?" She can feel the muscles in his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth under her palms before acquiescing with a fleeting nod. "Okay, good. Now, Alex. You need to do this, okay? You need to do the therapy, you need to sit up, to get in the chair, and it's going to hurt and you'll be exhausted and it'll be the hardest thing you've ever had to do, but...you _have_ to do this. There are no choices here. No options, hell, there's definitely no easy alternative. This is it and you _will_ do it."

"What if I can't?"

The desperate fear in the quiet words tears Miranda open to her very core.

"What if I can't do it?"

"If you can't do it, I'll help you do it until you can do it. Izzie will help you, hell, your new shadow, Norman, will help you, until you _can_ do it. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Mmhmm, okay."

"So, can I let her in now?"

"Not now."

"Alex..."

"Please. Tomorrow, or later today even, just...not now...please? Not now..."

Miranda can feel her resolve slipping even as she tries her damnedest to keep it in place. Her head begins to nod, to agree, she can't help it, can't stop it.

"Okay, not now."

-

Izzie can count the hours of sleep she's managed to snatch in the last three days on one hand, and to say that it's becoming obvious is one hell of an understatement.

"Stevens?"

The sound snaps her from her reverie, sends her elbow sliding out from underneath her head and her chin plummeting towards the counter top. A hand on her upper arm saves her from putting her teeth through her tongue as she is pulled roughly upright again. It takes a moment for the room to stop spinning and for more than just a bright white light to register in her vision.

"Dr. Stevens?"

"Ummm," she blinks furiously and tries to focus.

"Are you okay?"

_Mark Sloan._

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine," she raises her hands to push some wayward strands of _desperately in need of a wash_ blonde hair behind her ears. "I'm sorry, what can I..."

"Have you slept at all? I mean, since the accident? Have you actually left the hospital and had real food and sleep in an actual bed?"

"Um, no. I don't, I can't...no. No, I don't think so."

Mark is disgusted to find that this piece of information and the distracted, exhausted way in which it is delivered, affects him. It's been three days. These things should be irrelevant to him again by now.

"Izzie..." He sighs, resigned and somewhat uncomfortable, "You're no good to the patients like this, you're no good to _him_ like this. Go home, get some sleep, have a shower..." he grins and wriggles his eyebrows, can't help himself, even under these circumstances. She doesn't grin back. "Come back in the morning."

"I can't. I have interns and Alex...what..."

"There are people falling over themselves to help Alex now, he's going to need you when all of that help dries up and you're not going to be able to do that if you don't get some food and some sleep. In that order...and now."

Izzie nods in apparent agreement but he can tell it's the nod of someone who knows you are speaking sense but they are going to ignore you anyway.

He shrugs his shoulders and turns, walks away, tells himself he doesn't care.

-

Alex clenches his eyes shut as Dr. Bailey turns to leave. Holds his breath and prays that he can keep it together until she is gone. Just a few more seconds.

Just a few more seconds.

He bends his cast-free right arm across his eyes, attempts to hide in its crook. He's not used to being so out in the open, so defenseless. He thinks that just maybe it's worse than everything else. Then he remembers what _everything else_ is and changes his mind.

Nothing is worse than his current _everything else_.

Before he even has time to register the movement he flings the thin blanket that covers him to the side. He's still dressed in a hospital issue gown, no-one has thought yet to bring him something to change into, something a little more dignified, something a little less crippled freak.

Alex stares hard at his knees, like foreign objects that have been randomly placed in the bed with him. At least the catheter is gone. As soon as he was aware enough he made sure that was gone, he thinks they knew he'd probably have pulled it out himself if they didn't just do it.

They would have been right, too.

He stares again, wills movement, a twitch, something. He expects nothing. He gets nothing.

Sitting up is painful and exhausting and the hardest thing he has done in days, just like Dr. Bailey said it would be. He is listing heavily to the right, all of his weight on his right arm, recently sliced through stomach muscles quivering from exertion. Exhausting and hard are fast overtaken by pain, pure and simple. It burns from his lower back to the very top of his head, the fact that none of it registers below his waist somehow intensifies the agony above it. It takes his breath and squeezes his heart until he is sure that if he doesn't lay back down he will pass out.

But laying back down is not an option now.

He reaches his casted left arm out and attempts to slide it under his left knee, to drag it upwards and over the side of the bed. His right arm is still holding him up and the cast is bulky and restrictive but he is nothing if not resourceful and eventually his left foot appears from beneath the blanket before a desperate shove has it sliding over the edge of the bed and out of sight again. He draws in a ragged breath as his back muscles spasm in violent protest, a moan, deep and guttural and from a place he does not recognise escapes before he can reign it back in. He tries to ignore it, to push past it, pulls his left arm across himself in preparation for doing the same thing with his right leg.

But the twisting required to reach his right leg is more than he can handle and his right arm gives way suddenly, collapses underneath him, betrays him. The fall twists his back even further, seizes the muscles down his spine completely and he bites through his bottom lip in an attempt to stop from screaming.

He screams anyway.

It tastes of blood and failure.

-

"How're you doing?"

"How's Alex?"

"Callie..."

"Don't, please. Just...don't." Callie raises her eyes to look through her lashes towards George. "How's Alex?"

"Um, I don't...he's, well, I'm not..."

"Forget it, I'll go see him myself." She stands abruptly to leave, to end the bumbling, to get out before she loses the strength to move.

George watches her walk out, knows instinctively she has no intention of visiting Alex, that she just wants to get out of the same room that he is in. They have been doing this dance for days now. Have it almost perfected, a choreographed tragedy of tempest and torture that has them meeting in the middle time and time again only to be ripped apart once more and flung to opposite ends of the harshly lit stage that their life has become.

George smiles wryly to himself and tries to guess what the next act will bring.

-

"Would you rather lose your arms or your legs?"

The random question jolts Meredith attention away from the blushing depths of her strawberry milkshake and she raises an arched eyebrow quizzically in Christina's direction.

"Excuse me?"

"No really, arms or legs...what would you rather?

Christina is sitting back in an office chair with her arms outstretched and her legs straight in front of her, as though pondering the question herself. Her head is inclined to the side and Meredith is slightly surprised to see that she appears very serious in her deliberations.

"I think I'd definitely have to say legs. Yes, legs. For sure. You can still operate with no legs. No hands and your career is over, no legs, I could work with that..."

She raises her eyes to catch Meredith's gaze and Meredith can see that she is looking at her for confirmation and reassurance. Not knowing what else to say and completely unsure where this conversation has come from and, more importantly, where it is going, Meredith nods slowly back.

"Yeah, for sure," comes her ambiguous reply.

-

"Izzie?"

"Oh, George." Izzie slows her steps slightly, raises her hands to her face. "Sorry, I didn't see you, I didn't...just...sorry, for everything. God, it feels like I've hardly spoken to you in days..."

"You haven't, but..."

She stops suddenly, turns to face him, and he has to divert his course to prevent himself from ploughing straight into her.

"I know, I know, I'm so..."

"Izzie, Iz..." George captures both her hands between his own palms, presses them together to get her attention, 'It's okay, really."

"It is?" Izzie's brows crease in confusion and lack of sleep.

"Yeah, it is. You've been...busy, and..."

"Oh God...Alex...you said...and I, and you said it back and then I've been...Alex..." Her words are a jumble, make perfect sense in her own head, not so much when spoken out loud. George, however, understands completely.

"Izzie, Izz...shhh. Listen to me. I love you, you know that."

She smiles brightly, widely and with more than a little sleep deprivation induced craziness, bright blue eyes blinking without really focusing, head bobbing in naive agreement.

"I love you too."

"But it's not...it's...Alex. I've seen you with him, and the way you love me...it's not the same is it?"

The confused frown returns and George silently berates himself for doing this to her when she should be in the middle of eight solid hours of uninterrupted sleep but, it's time.

"What? George...?"

"The way you look at him, the way he looks at you, like you're the only person in his whole world, which...actually, is pretty close to the truth which is kinda sad in a way too...but, anyway. He needs you Izz, he loves you and you love him. You love me too...I think, but it's not the same...you don't look at me like you look at him..."

"But..."

"No buts, Izz. No more buts...He needs you more than I do and, maybe...maybe, he loves you more than I do, too."

-

It's almost evening before Norman has a spare moment with which to check in on his resident. In Alex's absence he has been reassigned to Meredith Grey and they have a mutual agreement that he is to check on Alex whenever possible and to report back to her. It has never been spoken in words but both parties have fallen into a comfortable, assumed pattern. Norman finds Meredith fascinating, as intriguing as Alex but in a slightly different way. He has no idea what stories make up Alex's background, whereas parts of Meredith's past and present are regularly gossiped about facts that Norman has managed to pick up on during his short time at Seattle Grace.

He still finds her intriguing.

She is standing at the nurses station in the ER when he catches her raised eyebrow, a silent question that he doesn't have an answer for, yet.

The sight that confronts Norman when he enters Alex's room is so far from what he is expecting that at first he can't speak, and then, suddenly, he finds he can't stop.

"You know...my youngest, Elizabeth, she's about your age, maybe a little younger..." he walks to the side of Alex's bed, debates pressing the call button to get some assistance, decides to see how long he can manage without it first. "I've got four altogether, the first three, they're quite close in age, but then it was another eight years before we had Lizzie. She was a bit of an unplanned surprise actually, not that I'd ever tell her that."

Norman works quickly, goes for the pain meds first, depresses the button to administer the drugs he can see Alex needs desperately, but will never accept. Alex makes no move to acknowledge Norman has even entered the room, seems to be putting all his effort into sucking in oxygen and not screaming if the clenched way his mouth keeps opening and closing is any indication.

Norman reaches up and above Alex's head, pulls an oxygen mask from the wall and presses it tightly over his nose and mouth, the plastic instantly fogging and clearing and re-fogging in a visual representation of Alex's panic and fear. His eyes are clenched shut, and for that Norman is grateful for there are empty tears on his cheeks, translucent tracks of pain and terror, and Norman knows if he had to look into them and see it for himself he would not be able to do what he needs to do next.

"Well, anyway...I think you'd like her, she's a bit like you in a lot of ways, I think. Not that I presume to know you at all of course, just...well, my perceptions of you, of what I think you are like, I think you would get on well with her. And trust me, there aren't many young men like yourself that I would ever admit that to." Norman smiles to himself, finds his thoughts lingering on his youngest daughter and the stubborn streak that has always been splashed brightly across her round face and trusting eyes.

"It was tough for my wife when she was born," Norman rounds the bed, sees Alex's left leg dangling loosely over the side, the angle acute and he winces internally as the white gauze covering the majority of his lower back come into view, tries not to imagine the raw skin and surgical incision concealed beneath it.

Permanent reminders.

"It was clear to me as soon as she entered this world that she had Down's Syndrome, but as soon as she opened her tiny mouth and started to scream I knew that she'd be just fine. And she is, you know? She's definitely a fighter, Alex. A determined, fiesty, misunderstood fighter, and that's what I think she has in common with you."

Norman can see that the pain meds are starting to kick in, Alex's eyes are open to half mast and are hazy, not completely focused. His breathing is evening out and the fogging of the mask is less frantic and ragged than it was. He wraps his age wearied fingers carefully around Alex calf and knee and lifts carefully, slowly. The groan that accompanies the movement is low and soft, a whimper, and he lays one arm across Alex's chest to straighten him up in the bed again, pulls the blanket back up and rests his casted arm by his side, squeezes the cold fingers slightly and is surprised when they squeeze back, tighten, latch on, just momentarily, fleetingly, before relaxing once more.

Norman thinks he's beginning to become fluent in the art of unspoken communication.

-

"Dr. Yang?" Lexie's voice is timid and hesitant and she hates it, hates that Christina makes her feel like this.

"What?"

"Um, I've completed those charts as you asked, did you want me to leave them here for you?"

She takes the grunted reply as a 'yes' and sets the charts neatly in a pile on the desk beside her resident. Takes a moment to consider how little things have changed, despite the fact that _everything_ has changed, before turning on her heel to leave, dignity mostly intact.

A small victory.

"Lexie?"

"Yeah? Uh, I mean, yes. Yes, Dr. Yang?"

Dignity gone.

"I meant to say the other day, when everything was so crazy with Alex and well, anyway...you did good."

Lexie is sure she should say something here, anything, but words fail her and by the time her mouth opens to utter thanks, Christina has opened the top chart and Lexie can't bring herself to interrupt.

-

Despite the fact that she is as dead on her feet as she has ever been, Izzie still takes the stairs. She relishes the thought of being between floors, a sort of purgatory for the confusing conglomeration of relationships and friendships that her life has become. She's almost at her destination when a figure comes into focus and she's almost at the figure when she realises who it is. She stops abruptly, feels nauseous fleetingly, before using the handrail to guide her in a one hundred and eighty degree turn. She's two steps back in the direction she has just come from when the figure sighs loudly, resigned and exhausted.

"Izzie."

She stops but doesn't turn back around, isn't sure what is expected of her.

So she does nothing, just waits.

The pause is so drawn out and deathly silent that Izzie almost re-starts her decent, doesn't think she has the strength to deal with this now.

"Izzie?"

The voice is more questioning this time and has Izzie turning slowly, hesitantly, trying to find something to say and failing dismally when she sees the ruined mascara and smeared lipstick.

"How's Alex?"

The question is not what Izzie is expecting and she also knows it is not the question Callie really wants to ask.

"Callie...I...I just..." she drags a hand through her hair and down the side of her face, feels tears burn hot and hard behind her eyes and wills them to stay there, knows she has no right to them but can't seem to stop them all the same. She sinks down heavily onto the step on which she is currently standing, half controlled fall, half collapse. "I really need to go...I haven't..."

She can't work out what she wants to say, what she needs to say, thoughts flickering between George's words and Callie's face and her _need_ to see Alex. She squeezes her eyes shut and presses her fingers deep into the sockets, holds her breath to stop the sobs that resolutely find an escape anyway.

Callie watches as Izzie seems to fold in on herself, an exhausted, devastated heap. Small and only clinging on by the barest of threads. She bends her own head into her lap, covers it with both of her arms, wraps her fingers in her own tangled mess of hair and allows herself, if not to forget or forgive, to at least understand.

-

Miranda is about ready to bear hug the calendar that tells her this week is almost over, to kiss the clock that says only four hours and three minutes until a new day, a new week and a new month can begin.

"We're going to do another set of scans tomorrow..."

The voice comes from behind her but she recognises it instantly and understands instinctively what she is being told, she asks for confirmation anyway.

"Why? Has there been a change?"

She knows there hasn't.

"I just want to check how much swelling there is still, I was thinking..." Derek trails off, can't quite bring himself to complete the sentence.

"There should be more progress than there has been, right?"

"No, not necessarily," Derek lies and she sees straight through it but is grateful for it anyway.

"We just have to wait and see, right?"

"Yeah...wait and see..."

She nods robotically and turns back to the clock, watches the second hand tick, tick.

Waits with trepidation for the boom.

-

Alex is asleep when Izzie lets herself quietly into his room. She is both relieved and disappointed by this revelation. Relieved because she doesn't think...no, she _knows_ that she doesn't have the strength to deal with him at the moment, she needs sleep more than anything else in this world. Disappointed because she misses him, the old Alex, the one she is waiting for, the one she so desperately wants back.

It takes her a moment to notice that he has been reattached to a nasal canula and her heart rate increases suddenly as she struggles to come up with plausible reasons for this that don't involve bleating monitors and emergency codes. She reads his chart three times before she realises that she's not really reading it at all, sits instead and stares at him, as though the set of his jaw and the length of his eyelashes and the rhythmic up and down of his chest will tell her all she needs to know.

She stares until her eyes lose focus, refuses to blink until the burn is cold and painful and the only thing she can feel. She has hold of Alex's fingers, is clinging on as though her life depends on it, and maybe it does.

Well, her sanity at least.

She lowers her chin and presses her lips against his fingertips, gently kisses each smooth fingernail, tastes only the salt of her own tears. They're hot and heavy, heavier than anything she has had to carry in the past and as they slide down her nose and drip off his pinky, soaking the white sheet beneath his hand, she tries desperately to figure out who they are for. Are they for a confused and grieving best friend who lost a father and gained a wife in the space it took him to blink and take a shuddering breath, or a devastated and heartbroken colleague who went from having it all to having nothing before the ink on the marriage certificate had even dried. Are they for a broken and terrified ex who has no one in the world to turn to, so instead clings desperately to the side of a long ago constructed wall of false bravado and arrogance, or are they for her, the little girl lost who wants nothing more than to love and be loved.

She thinks, just maybe, they are for all of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note...

(Sorry if the appearance of a new 'chapter' in your alerts is misleading...)

I have recently received quite a few requests to finish this fic and I really, REALLY want to.

BUT... there is a slight problem, as it's been sooo long and so much has happened (both in real life and on the show) since the last chapter, I'm finding it really hard to construct a plausible conclusion.

I therefore have a favour to ask... if anyone has any ideas for the final chapter please feel free to send them on through to me in the hope that they will spark some inspiration.

I really hate the fact that this is not complete, and I know it's not fair to those that read from the very first post so... I implore you... HELP!

That is all.


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